


She packed no star as she wandered far

by owlaholic68



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Broken Bones, Canon-Typical Violence, Electrocution, Explicit Language, F/F, Gunshot Wounds, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Seizures, Vigilante Superhero AU, it's Lynn so you better expect some, just a tiny bit?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: The Courier is a vigilante superhero by night, a UPS package courier by day."I just sign here or what?" Vulpes Inculta says, squinting at the clipboard in his hand.Caesar's best Frumentarius is wearing a fox onesie and holding a mug that says "Oh for Fox sake".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Rebel - Johnny Yuma" by Johnny Cash.

The fire was getting bigger.

“Damnnit,” Veroncia mutters under her breath, picking up another small child and hustling them to safety. “Why can’t our _outstanding_ fire department arrive in less than five minutes for once?” This was the third fire in the business district in a week. There were rumors that they were deliberately started ( _yeah, no shit, Sherlock_ ), possibly by a group calling themselves the Great Khans. Veronica sets down the child next to its worried parents, then turns back towards the smoke. _I wish they’d stop setting fires right next to the Brotherhood HQ, though. This nonsense is getting old._

Someone runs past her towards the burning building.

“Whoa, hold up!” Veronica yells, catching their arm. “You can’t go in there by yourself!” The person turns.

“Don’t worry about me,” they reply, their voice muffled by a gas mask. “I can handle myself.” Their eyes are covered by a large pair of tinted goggles, and their hair is concealed by a black scarf. They are wearing what appears to be plain brown coveralls and black tennis shoes.

“Seriously!” Veronica exclaims, following the mysterious person as they brush her off and continue into the smoke. “That’s an old explosives factory, it’ll blow any minute now!”

“All the more reason to hurry up,” they argue, starting to jog. “The Khans have hostages in there.”

“I’m coming with you,” Veronica says. “If there’s hostages, which by the way _what the hell_ , then you’ll need help freeing them.”

“Fine, whatever, suit yourself!” the mysterious figure yells, running into the smoke. Veronica adjusts the portion of her scarf she’s put over her nose and mouth, and runs in after them.

They run into the main entrance of the building, and down several hallways, keeping low to avoid the smoke.

“Captives are in the main factory floor room,” the stranger explains as they go. “NCR soldiers. Khans hate the NCR, wanted to off some people as a scare tactic.”

“Okay,” Veronica says. “My name’s Veronica, by the way.”

“Cool, you can call me the Courier,” they reply. “We’re almost there, according to the schematics I have.”

“How’d you even get schematics of this building?” Veronica asked.

“Google,” they say, chuckling. “Looked it up while-“

“Whoa, wait!” Veronica yells, grabbing the Courier’s arm and tugging them back.

There’s a tripwire strung across the doorway in front of them. Through it, Veronica can see three figures kneeling on the ground.

“Good eyes,” the Courier says, kneeling and adeptly disarming the trap. “Guess it’s good you came with me after all. Let’s go.”

When they reach the captives (all still conscious, thankfully), the Courier pulls a knife from their belt, and hands it over to Veronica, then takes another one from a hidden inside pocket in their coveralls. They quickly free the hostages, and help them to their feet. They all stay low, running back towards the main entrance.

Around them, windows start shattering. A piece of glass hits the Courier’s left arm, leaving a large gash. They shrug it off and keep moving.

They make it out the front door of the building just as something in the back of it explodes. They are knocked over by the force of the blast, but are able to get back up and into safety. Ambulances are waiting for them when they clear the smoke, and Veronica sees a fire truck arriving, _finally_. When Veronica is done helping the NCR soldiers to the ambulances, she turns and realizes that the mysterious Courier is gone, disappeared into the crowd.

 _Shame,_ she thinks. _They seemed...cool?_

* * *

 

“Welcome to the Brotherhood of Steel, Inc. Headquarters main office, how can I help you?” Veronica drones. After the last fire, her supervisor told her she could have a few days of respite from handing out flyers while the city clears out the debris. Unfortunately, that meant manning the front desk.

“Actually, I just have a special package to deliver to, uh, Lorenzo?” A woman in a standard brown UPS outfit says, approaching the desk. A _cute_ woman, her short afro tousled by the wind. Veronica sharply looks up, boredom suddenly gone. She squints at the woman, whose nametag reads “Lynn”. _Something about her…_

“Yeah, sure,” Veronica replies, searching her desk for a pen. She misses the way that Lynn stiffens in shock. “I can sign for that and just send it up to him.”

“Uh, yeah, great!” Lynn stammers, setting the package down on the desk and pulling out a clipboard. “Just sign here, please.”

As Veronica accepts the clipboard, she notices a bandage on the woman’s left arm, halfway hidden by her sleeve. Lynn catches her staring and seems oddly alarmed, so she quickly signs the delivery form and hands the clipboard back.

“There you go, _Lynn,_ ” Veronica says, purposely lowering her voice. Lynn blushes and almost drops the clipboard.

“Uh, cool, thanks, Veronica!” she squeaks.

“No prob- wait, how do you know my name?” Veronica asks, thinking. _Why does her voice sound so familiar?_

“It’s, uh on your nametag,” Lynn blurts. Veronica looks down at her own chest. _Wait…_

“Hey, I don’t wear a nametag!” she says, and looks up. Lynn is fast-walking to the exit. Veronica leaps up from her seat and runs after her, catching her arm right as she opens the main door.

“Hey, hold up! How did you know my name?” she demands, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu.

“Uh,” Lynn eloquently says, inwardly panicking.

Veronica comes to a sudden and impossible realization.

“Oh. My. God. You’re _the Courier_!” she exclaims.

“Shh!” Lynn loudly whispers. “Okay, fine. Yes, I am.”

“But wh-“

“Not here,” Lynn whispers. “I’ll come over to your place tonight and explain everything.”

“Wow, it’s not even our second date, and you’re already inviting yourself over?” Veronica, even in trying times, can’t help but flirt with a pretty girl.

“Whatever,” Lynn impatiently says, still blushing. “Just tell me where you live.” She winces. “Okay, that came out with like, a serial killer stalker vibe.”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Veronica mumbles, “I, uh, sort of have been living in a motel room? I haven’t found a cheap enough place yet.”

Lynn just stares at her in disbelief. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Three months, maybe four?” Veronica replies, realizing just how awful her situation sounds.

Lynn’s stare of disbelief has turned into horror. “What the hell!”

“Listen, I don’t have many op-“

“Move in with me.”

“What.”

“I’ve got a two-bedroom for its convenient location, but I can’t get a roommate for obvious vigilante hero-related reasons. Also, I have a nice bathroom.”

Now it’s Veronica’s turn to stare. Who meets someone for the first time (okay, technically the second time) and want to move in together?

“Hell yes.”

* * *

 

That night, Lynn picks her and her three boxes up in an old four-door car.

They are almost to Lynn’s apartment when she abruptly pulls over. A group of motorcycles and a large van come screaming past them. From the passenger seat, Veronica only catches a glimpse of red motorcycles, red uniforms, and a red flag painted on the side of the van.

“Who’re they?” she asks. Lynn pulls back onto the road.

“A new mob in town,” she replies, keeping her eyes on the road. Her jaw is clenched and her eyebrows furrowed. “They call themselves the Legion. I would love to take care of them, but they’re a huge group. Heavily armed. What’s more, nobody can get any intel on them.”

“Geez,” Veronica says.

“If there here to take over this city too,” Lynn says, “I’ll take them down myself, no matter how big they are. I can promise you that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Courier investigates a distress call.

 

“-50, do you copy?”

“This is 350. Go ahead.”

“-a Code Nine with a vehicle on Fremont Str-.”

“Copy.”

Static fills the dark apartment. The only light comes from a laptop on a small desk. Lynn is sprawled in front of it, her feet propped up on the desk next to a police scanner. The odd lighting distorts her shadow on the wall into a hulking monster ready to pounce.

“This is 200. Go ahead.”

“Could you respond to a disturbance at 20 E Bonnevil-?”

“-opy. Go ahead.”

“Juveniles possibly in possession of alcohol. Code Three.”

Lynn yawns and stretches, then checks the time on her phone. It’s just past midnight on a Tuesday. _I guess it’s technically Wednesday now._

She reaches to turn off the police scanner, tired of listening to static and routine traffic stops. _I’d better check all the channels again, just in case something comes up._

Lynn flips through the downtown Vegas channels, hearing nothing but static.

“-name is Raul T-“ A new channel cuts in. _That’s not a police officer._ Lynn hurriedly tunes the channel until it becomes clear again.

“-held captive at Black Mountain Radio by a hostile group of mutants. Extreme caution advised. Please help.” The message repeats once, then fizzles out to static.

* * *

 

Veronica shuffles into the living room early the next morning. The rising sun is streaming through the window, bathing everything in orange light. Even the ugly brown couch that they bought from Craigslist seems to glow.

She goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. Sitting next to piles of fruit are small yogurt canisters. Veronica grabs one and tears it open while she hunts for a spoon. When she finally finds one, she accidentally drops it and it clatters loudly on the tile floor.

“Mmh?” Lynn mumbles and raises her head from the desk.

“Lynn?” Veronica asks, surprised. “Why are you sleeping out here? I didn’t even notice you there.”

“What time is it?” Lynn asks, ignoring Veronica’s question and hunting for her phone under the mountain of papers that has appeared on her desk. “7:30? Already?”

“Yeah, sleepyhead.” Veronica leans over Lynn’s shoulder, glancing at the papers scattered there. “What’s up?”

“Got a distress call last night,” Lynn explains over breakfast. “Someone named Raul is trapped up on the mountain by some mutants. I’m going to head down there after work.”

“Cool, I’ll come with you!” Veronica says. She’s cradling a mug of tea and Lynn is inhaling a cup of coffee.

“Absolutely not,” Lynn immediately replies, frowning. “Too dangerous.”

“Come on, I can handle myself just fine!” Veronica protests.

“No, no, _no_! This is going to be a super risky mission, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me!” Lynn forcefully sets down her mug.

“I won’t!” Veronica argues. “If I do get hurt, which is unlikely by the way, it’ll be my own fault. Besides, look at yourself!” She gestures at the bags under Lynn’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be doing this kind of stuff all alone!” She softens her voice. “You don’t have to do all of this alone, Lynn. Let me help, at least once in a while. After all, even a super-cool vigilante hero like you needs someone to watch their back.”

Lynn sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Fine,” she acquiesces. “I’ll come pick you up after I get out of work.”

* * *

 

It’s nearly dark by the time they reach the base of Black Mountain. Lynn parks the car in a vacant lot on the winding road that leads to the peak.

“Are you sure we need all of this?” Veronica asks. They’re both wearing bullet-proof vests underneath their clothing, and Lynn is dressed in her trademark outfit. She’s got a sniper rifle strapped across her shoulders, a pistol on her hip, and several large knives strapped to her legs and arms.

Veronica only has her bare fists and a rifle that Lynn insisted she take.

“Never hurts to be over prepared,” Lynn retorts. “We should probably be careful from here on up.”

They’re almost to the top when Lynn stops and grabs Veronica’s arm, pulling her down into the brush and pointing at the path ahead. She pulls out her sniper rifle, screws on the silencer, and looks through the scope.

“There’s a guard up there,” she whispers. “He’s got, uh, a minigun, but he’s alone. I can take him out from here.” She takes a deep breath, holds it, and lines up her shot. A soft click, and Lynn rocks back slightly from the recoil.

Her face is calm, almost serene in her concentration while she fires. She’s not wearing her gas mask tonight, so the way she bites her lip and puffs out her cheeks is obvious, even in the low light.

“Let’s go,” Lynn turns to her and whispers, and Veronica realizes she’s been staring. They stay low and head up to the main radio complex. They pass a few other guards, but decide to leave them alone. Once near a large cluster of buildings, Lynn peers out from their cover.

“Looks all clear,” Veronica mutters. “We should be able to cut right across this courtyard. Which building is this Raul guy in?”

“Not sure,” Lynn surveys the courtyard. “I figure he’s either in the main radio building or in one of the adjacent ones.” She nods once. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s go, it looks empty.”

Unfortunately, it was not empty.

A mutant appears from thin air and swings a huge club at Veronica, knocking her off her feet. Lynn reacts fast, drawing her pistol and firing it at the mutant’s head. However, she’s not fast enough to dodge the fist of another mutant who lunges at her from the side. She stumbles back from the hit, but manages to not drop her gun.

“Veronica, you okay?” she dodges another hit.

“Just GREAT, now focus on your own problems!”

Lynn risks a glance over her shoulder just in time to see Veronica kick the mutant in the balls and then punch him in the face. She takes the opening to pull the assault rifle from her back and fire, effectively taking him down.

Not much was known about mutants, except that they were former henchmen of an evil mastermind called “The Master.” However, since his defeat almost fifty years ago, mutants had mostly taken to living in the wilderness or in secluded villages. Lynn only knew that they were incredibly fast, strong, and long-lived. It was rumored that some mutants didn’t even look different from normal humans, but Lynn dismissed that has paranoid garbage.

No one had ever said that they could turn _invisible_.

The mutant in front of her snarls and tries to hit her again. Lynn fires her pistol at its head, but it knocks the weapon out of her hand with superhuman strength. She quickly draws a knife from her belt and darts in close to the mutant, reaching up and stabbing the knife deep in its eye. It roars and falls over, instantly killed. Lynn stumbles back and snatches her pistol from the ground, putting it back in its holster.

“Come on!” Veronica grabs her hand and pulls her towards one of the buildings. More guards are starting to fire at them. “In here!” Veronica throws open the door to a building.

She’s halfway inside when a grenade bounces at their feet.

“Go!” Lynn shouts, letting go of her hand and shoving her in the building, then slamming the door shut and running in the opposite direction. Lynn skids around the corner of the building before the grenade goes off. A piece of shrapnel hits her shoulder, but she is otherwise lucky. Lynn scrambles towards the next building and dives inside, barricading the door shut behind her.

* * *

 

Veronica falls into the building. She picks herself up and quickly slides a large chest in front of the door. The large room she’s in is obviously used for storage, most of the space taken up by shelving units and boxes. Otherwise, it’s empty and quiet; she’s startlingly alone.

No Lynn. Veronica feels a heavy churning mess in her stomach, a whirlwind of adrenaline, worry and anger. _Why-how, how **dare** she? She thinks just because she’s the hero, she has to be all self-sacrificing and reckless. The deal wasn’t that she would take care of me, it was that we would protect each other. _ Veronica almost rips the door back open to go find Lynn, but the rational part of her brain stops her. She can still her voices outside snarling and shouting.

 _Guess it won’t hurt to check this room out. Maybe I’ll find something useful._ Directly in front of her is an odd training dummy with a note attached to it. Veronica skims it, something about a treasure hunt and misuse of equipment. She pokes through boxes of garden gnomes and scrap metal. Most of the larger boxes are locked, so Veronica leaves them alone and heads towards the far wall.

There’s a half-naked woman laying on a table, unmoving. Veronica stops short.

“Hello?” she warily says. “Who are you?”

They don’t respond, so she takes a step closer and examines them.

The woman is of average height, with dark brown skin and even darker hair. She is laying completely still, eyes closed, arms at her sides. Veronica realizes that she’s actually breathing, and puts a hand on the woman’s chest where her heart would be. She feels a weak heartbeat and slight lung movement. At the same time, this woman doesn’t seem…quite alive. And she’s certainly non-responsive. There’s also something unnervingly perfect about the way she looks, even down to the silky shine of her hair and her rosy cheeks.

Veronica puts a hand on the woman’s chin and turns her face to the side. As she does so, her pinky finger hits something. Veronica frowns. She moves the woman’s long hair to the side and feels on the back of her neck. There’s a slightly raised edge there. She heaves the woman up by the shoulders so that she’s sitting upright.

There’s a panel on the back of her neck. Veronica gently presses the center of it and it pops off.

“What. The. Hell.” She says, staring at this woman-no, this robot. Inside her body, instead of blood and guts, are a collection of wires and sensors. There’s also a large button labeled “AI EMERGENCY REBOOT”. Veronica turns over the small panel in her hand. On the back is a label: “Manufactured and programmed at RobCo Factory #27, 05/17/1994” _This is a **Robco** robot? I didn’t even knew they made androids! I thought they just made computers!_

Veronica starts to put the panel back, but stops and considers the large button. _I guess it won’t do any harm to try…_

She pushes the button, then quickly replaces the panel. For a few seconds, nothing happens. Then the woman jerks to life and abruptly stands up.

“Who are you?” the woman stares at Veronica with narrowed eyes.

“My name is Veronica,” she responds. “I just turned you back on.”

“You are the one who fixed me? My name is Rhonda. I am looking for my friend- my best friend. Have you seen her?” Rhonda is starting to pace back and forth, eyes darting around the room. “It is imperative and super-duper important that I talk to her immediately. It has been 6 years, 52 days-“

“Whoa, calm down there!” Veronica raises her hands in what she hopes is in a calming gesture. “We’ll find your friend, don’t worry. Let’s head outside, I think it’s clear now.” She could no longer hear gunfire or shouting voices, so she assumed that they’d given up.

“Thank you, thank you very much, it means a lot to me, it really does!” Rhonda follows Veronica to the door.

“Actually, let’s find you a shirt first,” Veronica says, starting to search the storage room.

* * *

 

“Fuck fuck _fuck, **ow** ,_” Lynn hisses, peeling back the right sleeve of her jumpsuit. Now that the adrenaline of the fight is starting to fade, the pain her shoulder is becoming very real. She tries to examine the extent of her injury, but between the odd angle she’s craning her neck at and all of the blood, she can’t really tell how bad it is. She tries to move her right arm to get a better look and grits her teeth. _Okay, it’s pretty bad. I’d better go to Arcade for this one when I-when **we** get back to Vegas_.

The small room she’s in is stuffed full of radio equipment and computers. She spies a first aid kit on the far wall and grabs it. She clears some of the junk off a table, sending scrap metal and random electrical components clattering to the floor. She throws the first aid kid down and opens it.

 _I really messed up this time,_ she thinks, ripping open a package of antiseptic wipes. Her thoughts stray to Veronica. _I know she’s okay, at least. I think._ She swipes the wipes across her shoulder and her whole body flinches. She curls in on herself and bites down a scream, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. After a few seconds, she unclenches her jaw, dashing the tears away and throwing the bloody wipes in a nearby trash can. _It's not- it’s just the pain,_ she tries to reason with herself, i _t’s not like I’m actually **that** worried about her. _She starts wrapping a length of bandage around her shoulder with shaking hands. By the time she finishes, her shoulder is almost numb.

Lynn explores the room for a minute, still hearing yelling from outside the front door. She notices another door tucked in the far corner of the room and presses her ear against it, but hears only silence. She cracks it open and peers out. Empty. She crouches and hesitantly exits.

To her right is a set of stairs that lead to the roof of the building and under the stairs in the corner is a pile of junk. Lynn quickly goes over to investigate it, just in case there’s anything useful. She almost trips as her foot hits a particularly soft patch of earth and immediately sinks. While pulling her foot out, she notices something metallic in the hole. It’s a worn key. She pockets it and turns towards the stairs.

They creak and groan under her. Once Lynn gets to the top she quickly scurries over to a metallic door and tries the handle. In the courtyard under her, mutants are still milling around, but miraculously, they don’t notice her. The door is locked, so she inserts the key she found. The door unlocks with a quiet click. She slowly opens it and peers inside. Empty. She slips inside, shutting the door behind her.

Unfortunately, this too is not empty.

* * *

 

“Tabitha? Best friend Tabitha?” Rhonda yells. She turns to Veronica and grabs her arm. “Yell too!”

Veronica winces at the strength of her grip. “Tabitha!” she shouts.

“Yes, yes!” Rhonda flaps her hands in agitation. “Tabitha, where are you?” She’s trying to search in every direction at once, eyes darting to every glimpse of movement “Up there!” she points to the roof of a larger building. A large mutant wearing, to Veronica’s shock, a blond wig and large heart-shaped glasses, yanks open a door and runs out onto the roof.

“Rhonda, is that you?” she shouts, spying them down in the courtyard.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Rhonda bounces up and down in excitement. Tabitha walks to the edge of the roof and drops right off of it, then runs over to Rhonda.

“Tabitha!” Rhonda leaps in to her friend’s arms. Tabitha hugs her tightly and spins her around.

“I missed you. I missed you!” she carefully sets Rhonda back down. Veronica hadn’t realized how short Rhonda was (or how tall mutants were) until she sees them next to each other. Tabitha bends at the waist to kiss Rhonda, who cranes her neck to meet her halfway.

Veronica spots another figure on the roof. It’s Lynn, who looks a little worse for wear. She waves up at her. Lynn waves back, then points back at a set of stairs and disappears. A minute later, she’s down in the courtyard. Veronica jogs up to her and envelops her in a hug, taking care not to jostle her obviously injured arm.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she whispers.

“Same to you,” Lynn buries her head in her shoulder. They separate after a moment.

“Thank you for helping me,” Rhonda walks over to them, holding Tabitha’s hand. “We must leave now to resume our journey.”

“Thank you, humans,” Tabitha grunts, tearing her eyes away from Rhonda. She takes a keyring out of her pocket and hands it to Lynn. “I don’t need this now. You can have it. I will also tell my friends not to shoot at you anymore.”

“Uh, thanks,” Lynn accepts the keys, trying to not to stare at the odd pair. They wish the newly reunited lovers luck and watch them walk away.

“So what now?” Veronica turns to her.

Lynn stows the keys in her pocket. “I mean, we should probably find Raul. We did come all this way for him, after all.”

“Really?” a gravelly voice says. Lynn turns and sees a man poking his head out of a small building on the other side of the courtyard. “Didn’t think I was a pretty enough damsel to get saved by some knights in…well, just knights. I guess.”

“Raul Tejada?” Lynn confirms. The man steps fully out of the building.

No, not a man. A ghoul.

Ghouls were even rarer than mutants. They were a result of a nation-wide government experiment gone awry almost two hundred years ago. Though they were not as strong or large as mutants, they were sturdy and were able to survive in very harsh conditions. Some could even live three or four times longer than a human.

Ghouls were sometimes hard to tell apart from humans, but there were several defining characteristics: odd eyes, strange skin tones, and rough voices. Now that Raul was closer, Lynn could tell that his pupils were a milky pale blue. And while he was clearly Mexican, his skin had an ashy paleness and an unnatural, almost otherworldly glow.

And his _hair._ Every other ghoul that Lynn had ever seen had lost all of their hair; a side effect of their mutation. However, Raul not only had a short mustache but also a full head of long, glossy hair that brushed his shoulders.

“Uh, yeah,” Lynn stammers, slightly taken aback. “I heard your distress call and though it was worth a look.”

“Wow. You actually thought that just storming up here with barely a plan was a good idea? I mean, whatever floats your boat, boss.”

“Well, we made it, didn’t we?” Veronica retorts. “I’m Veronica, by the way. This is, uh the Courier.”

“It’s alright, Veronica,” Lynn smiles over at her, then turns to Raul. “My name is actually Lynn, but don’t go around blabbing it when I’m in saving-the-city mode, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Raul drawls and puts his hands in his pockets. “So are we getting out of here or what?”

They start to head back down the mountain path. No other mutants are to be seen; they must have left with Tabitha and Rhonda.

“So do you need a ride somewhere, Raul?” Lynn glances over at him.

“I guess, since I don’t really have a car.”

“Where do you live?” Veronica asks.

Raul shrugs and doesn’t answer for a moment. “Anywhere that will take me. I’ve been stuck up here for so long, I don’t really have anywhere to go back to.”

Lynn feels a twinge in her heart, the familiar ‘I’ve-been-living-in-a-crappy-motel-for-months-and-only-have-three-boxes-to-my-name’ feeling.

“You could stay with us for a little while,” she half-heartedly offers, trying to desperately think of a way to help Raul, “but we don’t have an extra bed. You can crash on our couch if you need to.” She winces. _Okay, when you put it like that, it just sounds pathetic. Wait, maybe…_

“Actually! Actually,” an idea is half-forming in her mind. Raul perks up a little at the optimism in her voice. “I have a friend- nice guy, though a total nerd – who’s been looking for a roommate for _ages_. He’s got a pretty cheap place up in North Vegas.”

“I’ll take it, but I don’t even know if I could pay any rent,” Raul notes.

“Don’t worry about that part,” Veronica pipes up. “You’re a mechanic, right?” she points at his jumpsuit. He nods. “I know a nice old lady who owns an auto shop. She’s been looking for someone to help her, since she’s getting too old to take care of everything herself. I could call her for you, see if I can get you set up with something.”

“Thank you,” Raul grins then yawns into his hand. Lynn realizes that the shadows under his eyes are from lack of sleep, not just a ghoul trait. “I don’t even know you, and you’re both doing so much for me.”

“That’s just what we do.”

* * *

 

A lone car flies down the I-15. It speeds past exit signs: the I-215, McCarran International Airport, Spring Valley. Lynn is driving, favoring her left arm. Her eyes are glued to the road in front of her, even though it’s empty for miles. If Veronica, sitting in the front seat, notices that her back is stiffly straight and that she’s gripping the steering wheel too tightly, she says nothing. Raul is curled up in the backseat, half asleep.

Lynn’s phone buzzes. Without taking her eyes off the road, she fishes it out of her pocket, unlocks it, and hands it over to Veronica.

“You’ve got a new message from someone named ‘nerd’ followed by like ten emojis,” Veronica says. “It just says ‘I hate you’. Oh wait,” the phone vibrates again. “He sent another one! This one is really long!” Veronica clears her throat and starts to read. “’Ok. I am at the Mormon Fort right now. And yes, I am still hopelessly looking for a roommate. I’ll take him, but you’ll owe me favor.’”

“This guy needs to learn texting lingo,” Veronica remarks. Lynn laughs. “Even Raul could probably text better than him, no offense, Raul!”

“None taken,” he mumbles from the backseat, dozing. Lynn’s phone buzzes one last time.

“’Also, you did not guess my secret, try again,’” Veronica reads. Then she scrolls up to Lynn’s previous messages and dissolves into laughter.

 

To: nerd 

Sent at 11:17 p.m.

  * Hey
  * I need ur help
  * Where r u
  * I got blown up need healz
  * Also im bringing frends w/ me fyi
  * Btw r u still looking for a roomie
  * Cuz if so I found u one
  * He wont even mind that ur like secretly a robot or whatevs ur deep dark secret is
  * Hes cute 2 u will luv him
  * Hey asshole txt me back im bleeding out rn in my car
  * Jk
  * But STILL
  * Pick up ur phone
  * Hey
  * Hey
  * Hey
  * Arcade Bitch Gannon pick up ur fukin phone
  * R u awake? Cuz I am
  * and im dying here



* * *

 

Lynn raises her left hand to knock on the back door of the clinic, but it opens before she even gets a chance.

“Come on,” Arcade snaps, not even bothering to hold open the door for her. They file behind him as he turns down narrow hallway after hallway until they reach another door. This one leads directly into a small office.

“Thanks for this, man,” Lynn says, hopping up on an examination table. “This is Veronica and Raul, by the way. Guys, this is Arcade, resident nerd and old man.”

She starts to clumsily unbutton her coveralls, only using her left hand and quietly cursing under her breath.

“Here, let me help you,” Veronica quickly says, coming over to stand in front of her. She bats Lynn’s hand away and carefully undoes the first few buttons.

Lynn looks up at her and immediately feels her cheeks get warm. This feels….intimate. She suddenly becomes overwhelmingly aware of how gentle and slender Veronica’s fingers are, and the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheek. She’s so close that she can see the slight flush of Veronica’s cheeks. Finally, after what feels like minutes, Veronica finishes and pulls away.

“Th-thanks,” Lynn stammers. She gently slips her right arm out of her sleeve, leaving the rest of her jumpsuit pooled around her waist. Arcade pulls away the bandages that she’d roughly wrapped around her shoulder and starts examining the wound, brows furrowed.

Veronica hops on the table next to Lynn, since Arcade’s office only has one chair. Raul is currently straddling said chair, chin propped on his hand.

“So, Doc,” he drawls, wheeling his chair across the room and giving Arcade his saddest puppy-dog eyes, “how long does she have?”

Arcade keeps his focus on Lynn’s shoulder, but sneaks a glance over at him. “A few days, at most, if she doesn’t stop going on crazy missions and throwing herself in front of grenades.”

“Ah, then she’s doomed,” Raul moans, slowly spinning his chair around in circles. “I don’t even have anything black to wear for the funeral!” Even Arcade, who Lynn thought had a perpetual stick up his ass, laughs at that.

“Okay,” he addresses Lynn, serious again. “I’m going to start pulling stuff out of this then _properly_ bandage it all up. You should be good in a few days, knowing you.” He sets out scalpels, a pair of tweezers, and a roll of gauze bandages.

“What does that mean?” Veronica asks. “Shouldn’t it take a couple weeks for something like this to completely heal?”

“Yeah,” Lynn replies, forcing herself to stay still as Arcade starts pulling bits of shrapnel out with a pair of tweezers. “But I heal really fast. Had one of his friends,” she indicates Arcade, “hook me with a some implants and stuff.”

“Cool!” Veronica says. “That’s-“ She abruptly stops talking. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Lynn listens carefully. A soft meow comes from the back of Arcade’s office, where a small storage closet is. The meow is followed by another, then by a scratch at the door.

“That’s nothing!” Arcade, his voice cracking. “It’s just, uh, the building. It sometimes makes weird noises!”

“No,” Veronica says, hopping off the table and walking to the door. “That was a _kitty cat_.” She opens the closet door and a sleek grey cat darts out, almost tripping her.

“Leave that cat alone!” Arcade snaps. “It’s a monster, an absolutely hellish creature.”

“No he’s not!” Veronica protests. She kneels on the floor and holds out a hand to the cat. His pale green eyes seem to suspiciously look her over, then he decides that she must be okay and allows her to pet him. “He’s adorable! What’s his name?”

“No idea,” Arcade replies. “I found him in an alley. Actually, Lynn – hold still, stop squirming, I _know_ it hurts – I need you to get rid of him. Take him to a shelter, give him to a stranger, dump him in the desert, I don’t care.”

“Arcade, he can’t be that bad! And _this_ is the favor you texted me about? You need my help with a _cat?_ ”

“Lynn, can we keep him?” Veronica whines. In her arms, the cat gives Lynn a wide-eyed sad look, purposely tilting his head to the side so that his ears, scratched up and with several chunks missing, are clearly visible.

“Of course!” Lynn exclaims. “Ow!” she yelps, turning to Arcade, who’s glaring at her. “What should we name him?”

“Uh,” Veronica scans the room as if looking for inspiration. “Ed,” she mumbles under her breath, staring at the eye chart on the wall “Ed, Eddie.” The cat perks up at the second name, as if recognizing it. “Eddie it is, like ED-E on the eye chart!” Veronica declares, scratching under his chin. ED-E purrs and snuggles up to her chest.

When ED-E stops purring, Raul starts softly snoring. His arms are folded across the back of the chair, his head pillowed in them. _Poor guy,_ Lynn gazes fondly at him, at the way his hair drapes over his shoulder, _probably hasn’t slept in days._

Arcade wraps Lynn’s shoulder in silence, gritting his teeth. She watches his face, eager for any distraction from the stabbing pain in her shoulder. _Is that his ‘concentration’ glare, or his ‘mad about the cat’ one?_ Lynn takes the time to look at him, _really_ look. _No, this is…something else. Is he…scared? Of what? ED-E? Or…something else._

“All done,” he whispers, setting aside the roll of bandages.

“Thanks.”

“Just take the damn cat and leave,” he grumbles.

“And Raul?” Lynn asks as Veronica picks up ED-E, who’s fallen asleep in her arms. Arcade sighs.

“He can stay with me for the time being,” he says, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Seems like a okay guy. Well, ghoul. But still. He’s…alright.” He’s openly staring at Raul, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oooh,” Lynn whispers. “You _like_ him!”

“Shut up!” he whispers back, crossing his arms defensively.

“Oooh, yes you do!”

They glare at each other for a moment, Arcade’s cheeks now burning red. Lynn breaks eye contact first.

“Anyways, cool, thanks a million, Arcade!” Lynn says at a normal volume, heading for the door. “Veronica’s going to call someplace tomorrow and help get him set up with a job.”

“Great. Bye. Go fuck yourself.” He slams the door shut behind him.

“Is he always like that?” Veronica asks.

“Nah,” Lynn smirks. “Tonight, he was in a _great_ mood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the start of the real plot!
> 
> ED-E is a [Russian Blue.](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/ee/Russian_blue_head_sm.jpg)
> 
> Rhonda's facecanon is [Mariel Salcedo.](https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/864235613867745280/pS6qOfnE.jpg)
> 
> Lynn lives in East Vegas, while Arcade lives in North Vegas, not far from the actual location of the Old Mormon Fort.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is a dish best served cold; cold like the ornate pistol in her hand.  
> Or maybe it’s best kept hot; hot like the smoke that rolls under his door.

 

The phone is ringing. Lynn groans, lifting her head from the pillow and rolling over to grab it from the nightstand.

Call from: unknown number.

It’s three in the morning. Lynn answers it.

“Hello?”

“Your ‘accident’ was no accident,” an unfamiliar voice says. It’s deep and masculine, suave like an old movie star.

“Excuse me, who is this?”

“You really think that it’s normal for brakes, power steering, and airbags to all malfunction simultaneously?” They ask.

“How do you know about that?” Lynn hisses, shuddering at the thought of the freak accident that had almost claimed her life.

It was at dusk while on the I-15 highway north of Primm. The road in front of her had been empty until she reached Jean. A large unmarked semi-truck had pulled in front of her.

She remembers the semi-truck suddenly stopping in front of her, and slamming on her brakes. Except that brake pedal hadn’t budged under her foot. Her heart had leapt into her throat. She immediately slammed her foot down on it, to no avail. She tried to swerve and avoid the truck, but her steering wheel was stuck.

She remembers catching a flash of black and white as she lost consciousness, slumped over the wheel. He had said something to her, maybe. At the time, she hadn’t even been sure she had seen anyone. The police had told her that she must have imagined it. At the time, laying on a hospital bed, hooked up to several IVs full of drugs, she was inclined to believe them.

“The man you saw, or thought you saw,” they continue, “did in fact steal the priority package you were delivering.”

“The police told me it must have been lost in the wreckage,” she states. “Who- do you know who _did this_ to me?” A small seed of anger is starting to grow in her chest. The ‘bad’ anger, the one that makes her reckless and ruthless. Not the powerful go-fuck-yourself anger that had led to her helping a group of prostitutes escape Gomorrah, but the _other_ kind.

The type of no-longer-righteous fury that pushed her to rash decisions and bar fights in the middle of nowhere. Last time she felt so angry, Boone had to hold her back from punching Jeannie May Crawford right in her smug face. She had never felt as restless as when she had spent hours pacing Boone’s hotel room, waiting for him to come back. When he returned and informed her that he had gained his revenge, she was outwardly happy for him. Inwardly, though, she wished that she could have been the one to kill the woman. But to deny someone their revenge…

“His name is Benny Gecko, a mob boss masquerading as a casino owner.” The voice pauses. “He is in town for the weekend, staying at his penthouse suite at the Tops.”

Lynn frowns. “Thanks. Who are you?”

“Now is your chance. Take it.”

“Wait, hold on!” Lynn blurts. “Why did you call me in the middle of the night, instead of during the day like a normal person? Was it just to be dramatic?”

They hang up. Lynn groans and flops back on the pillow.

* * *

 

Arcade leans across the table and very seriously looks her in the eye.

“What?” She hisses, keeping an eye on the casino floor behind him.

“Lynn, you do know that I’m gay, right?”

Her attention suddenly snaps towards him. “Yeah? What is this about?”

Arcade incredulously stares at her. He points at himself, then her, then the drinks on the table, then her hand on the table, which is holding his. “Then what the hell is all this?”

He’s in a button-down shirt and nice jeans. _Dress nice, but not like super nice,_ she had told him over the phone. Lynn had brought out a floral cocktail dress for the occasion, adding a jeweled headband and dangling earrings to her ensemble. They’re sitting together by the bar in the gaudy Tops casino.

Now it’s her turn to stare. “Uh, a reconnaissance mission? You’re supposed to keep an eye on guards, and I’m looking out for strategic weak spots.”

“Yeah, but why do I have to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“So I won’t get hit on by random weirdos, _babe_.”

“Why couldn’t you bring Raul, then? Or Veronica?”

“I couldn’t bring Raul! First of all, he’ll be too conspicuous. Ghouls aren’t very common in Vegas, you know. Second of all, he looks way out of both my league and my age range, so he’ll just get hit on instead.”

“Okay, fine. Why not Veronica then? You two are…close.” He catches the hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Oh my god, you like her! I totally knew it, you two are a thing!”

“Shut up!” she hisses. “Fine, yes. She’s great and I want to adopt a million more cats with her-thanks for ED-E, by the way- but we’re not a thing _yet_ , which is exactly why I couldn’t bring her with me! I don’t want our first date to be scouting out a casino so that I can kill a guy!” She lowers her voice. “So you _really_ want to talk about relationships right now? _Fine_. How’s it going with you and Raul, huh?”

“Nothing’s even going on with us!” Arcade insists. _Too defensive to be lying, but too insistent to be telling the whole truth,_ Lynn deduces, raising her eyebrows at him.

“But you want something to be going on!”

“No, ok-yes, fine, I think he’s cute and smart and whatever, and I like his hair.” Arcade crosses his arms and leans back in the chair, glaring at her. “Happy?”

“Absolutely. Now go check out theater for me. I’m going to go chat up that guy at the door. He seemed kind of shifty, maybe he knows something.” They rise from the table together and casually head their separate ways.

* * *

 

Smoke pours from the casino windows and doors, as do the occupants. Alarms blare and scream into the night. There’s a growing crowd of people in the front of the casino and across the street. Most of the gamblers, diners, and hotel guests are being herded out of the main doors by the main staff. It’s a slow night at the Tops: two o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday night in the middle of June.

All of the commotion is out front, which is why one person exits through the back door.

Reason number one: he doesn’t want to be seen by the TV stations that will soon be arriving. Technically, he isn’t supposed to even be in town right now. It’s a sad city when the media gets on the scene before the fire department.

Reason number two: there was a fire directly outside the doors to his suite. He couldn’t have made it to the main entrance even if he wanted to.

This man, wearing a checkered suit coat over his silk pajamas, shoulders the emergency fire door open and steps out into an alley. The door closes behind him with a ringing finality. He coughs in the chilly night air. He’s alone, for now. Or so he thinks.

He barely makes it a step before a bullet embeds itself in his leg. He screams and his leg crumples, sending him to his knees.

“Benny Gecko,” a woman emerges from the shadows, a pistol in her hand pointed at his head.

“That’s me, dollface,” he grits out, subtly reaching for his pocket.

“Stop.” She commands. “Put your hands next to your head.” Grudgingly, he obeys. She stands in front of him.

“Who are you?” Her face is completely covered: her eyes by a pair of goggles, her mouth by a gas mask. He can’t even see her hair.

“My name isn’t important. I doubt you cared when you crashed my truck and left me for dead.”

Suddenly, Benny realizes who this woman is. He remembers following her truck up the I-15 until she got to Primm. While she ate dinner at IHOP, one of his Khan allies sabotaged her car, then went ahead on the road to stage their ambush. For such an important package, it was all too easy. Speaking of…

“Where’s the package you stole?” she asks.

He stays silent, playing dumb. Unfortunately, this terrifying woman has no patience for his bullshit. She immediately shoots him in the other leg.

“OW!” he yells. “What the hell, Dolly! Fine, fine, I’ve got it in my pocket. You gonna cool it now, or what?”

She stares down at him and raises her gun again.

“Okay, I’ll admit, you got a crazy drop on me, baby. But come on, do you really want to kill me, just like this?” He lowers his voice, trying despite his beating heart to sound alluring. “We should be _working_ together, not facing off in an alley. Come on, baby, you know I got dough. I can hook you up with a good gig.”

“Yes.”

He lets himself dare to hope. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I do want to kill you.”

The last flicker of hope he had dies.

“I want you dead more than anything else in this world. You almost took _everything_ from me and I can never, _never_ forgive that.”

She raises the pistol to his head. He closes his eyes. _Guess this is the end of ol’ Ben-man. Never thought I’d go out like this, getting got by a UPS driver gone kooky._

 

Benny’s body crumples, a bullet between his eyes. Lynn gazes down at it. Then she lowers the pistol and turns away for a second.

_I’m glad that’s done._ She frowns and kneels at his side, rummaging through his pockets. She finds the Platinum Chip in the inside pocket of his coat and pockets it. _It…didn’t feel good, though. But at least it’s over now. Never thought that it would end like this._ She also takes the ornate pistol in another pocket, a smiling image of the Virgin Mary beaming up at her from the butt of the gun. _I always thought that it would be…more dramatic, I guess._

She stands up and straightens her clothing.

“Impressive work.”

Lynn startles at the unexpected voice, spinning towards the mouth of the alley. She snaps her arm up, pointing Benny’s pistol at a shadowy figure. They calmly raise their hands in the universal sign for ‘not hostile, so don’t shoot me in the head’.

“Lower your weapon, I’m here as an ally.”

Lynn hesitates. Something about this man seems…off to her. She’s not sure if it’s his reedy voice or his odd silhouette. But she holsters her gun anyways. _If he wanted to kill me, he had the chance while I was distracted with Benny. But I need to get my act together; this whole thing has made me careless. I didn’t even see this guy until he let himself be seen._

“What do you want?”

“The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you.” The man steps into the light. His face is partially obscured by a large pair of goggles, similar to Lynn’s pair. He’s wearing a long skirt ( _a kilt?_ ) and polished brown armor. But it’s his headwear that is the most striking part of his ensemble. A stuffed wolf head has been fashioned into a hood on the top of his head. “He admires your accomplishments and wishes to form an alliance with such a formidable ally.”

Lynn frowns. _Caesar’s Legion._ She almost draws her pistol, just to feel safer, but realizes that doing so would make her look like a total asshole, since she already agreed to put it away. That, and the Legion would surely send assassins after her if she shot this guy. _I might as well hear him out. Worst case scenario, I can just refuse._

“Why does Caesar want my help?”

“He has many projects and missions that, as a result of his notoriety, he is unable to accomplish. However, a resident of this city would be able to do what even his most skilled Frumentarii are unable to manage.”

“Frumentarii?” Lynn considers the pros and cons of agreeing.

Biggest problem: she now has to pretend to be loyal to the Legion. Biggest advantage: she will have access to crucial information that will help her try to take them down. _I’ve been considering doing it for a while. Maybe this is my chance to at least try._ While the Legionary in front of her explains, she makes her decision.

“Tell his lord Caesar that I accept his invitation.”

The man nods and smiles. It’s a cold, cold smile. “Meet me in the Spring Valley public library tomorrow at 9 o’clock in the evening. I will give you your first task.”

“Wait, what’s your name?” Lynn calls after him as he starts to walk away.

“Vulpes Inculta.” Without any further ado, he turns and walks out of the alley. Lynn runs after him. When she gets to the end, he’s nowhere in sight.

* * *

 

Lynn quietly closes her apartment door and locks it behind her. It’s just past three in the morning; the apartment should be dark and quiet. Except it isn’t. Lynn can hear the TV and see its light eerily illuminating the small living room.

Veronica is sprawled on their ugly brown couch, the TV remote in her limp hand. She’s softly snoring.

“Veronica?” Lynn loudly whispers, but she doesn’t wake.

‘Not much is known about the fire at the downtown Tops Casino,’ the TV is playing a local news channel, ‘but despite the large amounts of smoke, the fire itself was quite small. There were no injuries, and damage to the casino was very minor. Only one casualty: owner Benny Gecko was found shot to death in an alley next to the casino.’

Lynn gently takes the remote from Veronica’s hand and turns off the TV. In the sudden silence and darkness, Veronica stirs and wakes.

“Lynn, that you?” she mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Lynn takes off her goggles and gas mask, and sets them on the coffee table. She sits next to Veronica on the couch.

“Where were you?” Veronica’s eyes finally adjust to the light, and she notices Lynn’s outfit. “What were you doing out at two in the morning as the Courier?”

“I had to take care of some business.”

“I was worried about you,” Veronica sits up. “I woke up and noticed you were gone.”

“I can leave a note next time,” Lynn tries to reassure her, but can see that something else is bugging her.

“I thought you might be out at the fire downtown. But I didn’t see you on TV.”

Lynn says nothing. Veronica immediately picks up on her hesitation.

“You weren’t, were you?”

Lynn instinctively wants to lie, wants to reassure Veronica that no, of course, she wasn’t anywhere near downtown. It was an instinct that had been ingrained in her from months of hiding her secret identity. But this is _Veronica_ , not just anybody.

“I was. I,” the truth sticks in her throat. Not for the usual reasons. Normally, it was the fear of someone discovering who she really was. This time, though, it was shame that made her swallow heavily before continuing. “I started that fire. And I killed Benny.”

“You did _what? Why?_ ” Veronica is staring at her with wide eyes. “I thought it was your job to _stop_ crimes in Vegas, not commit them yourself!”

“I had to!” Lynn tries to defend herself. “It was a personal matter. I-maybe I messed up with the way I did it. I was too reckless, got too many innocent people involved. And I am sorry about that, I really do regret it. But it was something that I _needed_ to do.”

“What did he do?” Veronica demands. “What could he have possibly done to you to warrant what you did?”

So Lynn tells her. Recounts the story of the delivery gone wrong, the months spent in the hospital, the vow to take her anger and put it to good use. How she started protecting the city form the numerous gangs trying to take it over. She tells how someone had called her in the middle of the night. Finally, hesitatingly, she tells of Benny’s death.

When she finishes, Lynn hesitantly glances up at Veronica. _Is she mad? Will-will she leave and want nothing to do with me anymore? I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Any sane person would want no part of this._

“I understand, Lynn, but I don’t like it.” Veronica reaches out and takes Lynn’s dust-covered hand. “This-this just isn’t how I thought you _did_ things. I don’t like how you did it. It was cruel and unnecessary, and bloody. It risked too many innocent lives. But I see why you did it.”

“Thank you for at least listening. I messed up this time, let my emotions get the better of me. It,” Lynn squeezes her hand, “it won’t happen again. I promise.” _Should I tell her about Vulpes too?_ She almost opens her mouth to say something. _No, this is more dangerous than anything I’ve ever gotten mixed up in. I don’t want her getting in trouble because of it too. I’ll tell her tomorrow after I actually properly talk to him. At least then I’ll have a concrete plan that I can share with her._

“We should probably go to bed now.”

“Yeah.” Lynn has become mesmerized with Veronica’s eyes, which shimmer with the reflections of a million streetlights behind them. Unconsciously, she leans in. Veronica does too, holding eye contact.

Abruptly, they realize the position they’re in. They jump away from each other, suddenly awkward.

“Good night!” Lynn blurts, blushing. Veronica’s blushing too.

_Nice going, idiot. You had your chance, and you blew it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or maybe, revenge is like pizza: it's good both hot and cold!
> 
> Lynn bought [this couch](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/600x315/aa/79/d5/aa79d5b782220fd598d9e4095836c3b4.jpg) off Craigslist.
> 
> Next chapter: A plan gets set in motion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Courier completes another semi-successful mission. Lynn delivers a package.

“So you’re all probably wondering why I gathered you here today,” Lynn does her best dramatic movie voice. Across from her on the couch, Arcade groans.

“For real though, why _did_ you call everyone over?” Veronica asks.

Lynn’s normally empty living room is stuffed full. Arcade and Raul are sitting next to each other on the couch. Veronica is curled up on the loveseat, ED-E dozing on her lap. She glances up at a bald man stiffly standing next to her that she’s never seen before. Lynn, sitting across from the couch on a rickety kitchen chair, notices her confusion.

“First of all, introductions, since we don’t all know each other. Boone, you start.”

“Craig Boone.” He looks down at Lynn. Or at least she thinks he does; she can’t convince him to take off his sunglasses and hat, even indoors.

“Boone is a retired NCR sniper; that’s why he’s here.” Lynn supplies, seeing that he’s not going to add anything else.

“I’m Veronica, Lynn’s roommate.”

“I’m Raul, and my fun fact is that I don’t have a fun fact.”

“My name is Arcade. I’m a doctor for the Followers of the Apocalypse. Catchy name for a clinic, I know.”

ED-E wakes up and loudly meows, as if to introduce himself.

“And our favorite little cat is ED-E.”

Arcade crosses his arms glares over at the cat, but holds his tongue.

“So, time for the reason I called everyone over.” Lynn becomes more serious. “A few days ago, someone from Caesar’s Legion approached me with a job offer. Now,” she looks around the room at everyone’s surprised faces. Except for Veronica, who she’d already told last night. “I didn’t think that anyone here actually wanted the Legion here in Vegas. If I’m wrong, you are free to walk out right now.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. _Here goes._

“I’m going to take them down.”

For a moment, there’s only silence.

“Are you _off your rocker_?” Arcade is seemingly furious, but she can sense an undercurrent of concern. It’s well-placed; the Legion is a large threat.

“That’s…all on your own, boss?” Raul shares his roommate’s worry. “I mean, I want them gone as much as anybody. But, they’re…”

“I know, and that’s,” Lynn swallows and continues. “That’s why I’m asking for your help.” She looks up at Boone. “I know some of us have…personal reasons for wanting the Legion gone. But if you are on the fence about getting involved in this, I understand.”

“I’m in.” Boone, predictably, is the first to respond. _After what happened to his wife, I can’t blame him. He still hungers for revenge, I know it. Even though we got Jeannie May Crawford, she was just the weapon that dealt the blow. The hand the wielded the weapon, however, is still at large._

Next, Lynn looks over at Veronica. When they’d discussed the idea last night, she had eagerly offered her help. At first, Lynn had been hesitant to let her be in so much danger. Then she remembered her foolishness at Black Mountain; her reluctance to put Veronica in danger had ended up doing more harm than good.

“You know I’m with you.” Veronica smiles reassuringly at her. Lynn looks at Raul next.

Raul avoids her eyes, twiddling with some piece of junk in his hands. “I don’t know, Lynn. I-give me some time to think about it?”

“Okay, that’s alright, Raul.” Lynn’s stomach sinks. _He’s not sure. I don’t want to force him into doing something he doesn’t want to._

“Don’t count me in, but don’t count me out either.”

Arcade is next. Before Raul spoke, he seemed very confident in his decision. But now, he looks a little conflicted himself, stealing glances over at his roommate. He squares his shoulders and seems to make his decision.

“I’ll help you, as much as I can.”

Lynn breathes more easily. _Without Arcade, we’d really be in trouble._

“I can obviously help with medical issues, but if push comes to shove, I can also shoot a gun pretty well.”

“It probably won’t come to that, but thanks anyways.” Lynn looks around at everyone assembled. _I’m doing this for you, for all of you._ “Now that we’ve got that over with, I’ll go over the rough plan.”

She sets her laptop on the coffee table and opens it.

“First, the only man I’ve had contact with so far is named ‘Vulpes Inculta’. He is the leader of the ‘Frumentarii’, a group of spies.” She shows a two pictures of him; one she found on the internet after almost an hour of digging, and one she stealthily took herself. “I’m not sure how we’re going to take care of him; he’s very cunning. In addition, since he is the only one I’ve personally interacted with so far, it would unbelievably suspicious if he was suddenly assassinated. So we can’t go after him yet.”

Lynn shows two more pictures of different Legionaries. “However, there are some high-ranking officers that we can safely target without fear of being found out. That is step one of the plan: weaken Caesar’s hierarchy. Boone, that’s where you come in. We’ll start outside of Vegas for safety; these two are both stationed at Cottonwood Cove.”

“Cottonwood Cove?” Veronica asks. “The Legion has a base there?”

“Not a large one, but it is a crucial point for them. These two, named Aurelius of Phoenix and Decanus Severus, coordinate the flow of supplies and reinforcements. I’ll send you more info,” she addresses Boone. He nods.

“Wait,” Arcade frowns. “How are you going to convince this Vulpes guy that you’re loyal to the Legion, so that you can get more information?”

Lynn sighs. “That part is not going to be easy. He’s given me a mission to accomplish; the first one is fairly simple. I’ll correctly do any that I can to gain favor, and try to ‘accidentally’ mess up any that would actually benefit the Legion or do any serious damage to the city.”

“That sounds risky,” Veronica chimes in. “Double-crossing him like that, if he’s as smart as you say he is…”

“It is,” Lynn agrees. “I’ll have to be very careful. But I think I can pull it off, as long as we take it slow.”

“So what happens after we take down enough of Caesar’s underlings? We go after the big man himself?” Arcade asks, leaning back on the couch.

Lynn shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. First of all, we don’t actually know where the Fort is. It’s the main headquarters of the Legion. Caesar’s there too.”

“So we have to find it first, before we can even do anything.”

“Correct. But there’s a second problem, Veronica. Caesar has allies in the city; arms dealers, other groups, even a few casino mob bosses are rumored to be working with him. We can’t just rush in there without taking care of them first. That,” she looks pointedly at everyone else in the room. “That is where I need the most help. And it’s mostly not going to be any fighting; I don’t think it would be that hard to convince some of these people to switch to the winning side, especially if we’ve already weakened the Legion. Then,” Lynn raises a finger in emphasis, “and _only_ then, do we take the fight right to Caesar.”

She looks around the room. Three determined faces look back at her.

“Sounds good,” Boone breaks the silence. He crosses his arms.

“It’s surprisingly cautious. I like it,” Arcade approves. Next to him, Raul fidgets and says nothing.

“Well then, if that’s it,” Veronica gently eases ED-E off her lap. He yowls in irritation. “We’ve got cookies and coffee; feel free to stay and hang out. If not, we’ll see you around.”

Lynn stands up and starts to head for the kitchen. As she’s preparing tea for Veronica and coffee for herself, Boone comes up to her and takes his sunglasses off.

“Thanks for all this,” he grunts. She turns and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad to do it. We all want those bastards gone for good.”

“It means a lot to me,” Boone cracks a rare smile. “I’m glad to have you as a friend, Lynn.”

He pulls away and puts his glasses back on, then adjusts his beret. “I can’t stay though, sorry.”

“That’s okay. At least take a cookie for the road? They’re good, my neighbor made them,” Lynn snags a chocolate chip cookie from a jar on the counter and wraps it in a napkin. Boone accepts it, then heads out the front door with a wave to the others.

In the living room, Raul is quietly petting ED-E while Arcade disapprovingly watches. Veronica is tidying up, moving Lynn’s chair back to the kitchen table. When Lynn comes back in, Arcade taps Raul on the shoulder and stands up.

“We have to get going, too. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow and I need my old man beauty sleep.”

“Okay, have fun being boring,” Lynn teases and quickly bundles up more cookies for them. She presses them into Raul’s hands and leads him to do the door. “Hey,” she whispers, “take your time and think about it. No one’s forcing you to do anything.”

He peeks up at her. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “Can-can I come over tomorrow and talk about it?”

Lynn nods. “I’ll come pick you up after work, since I know you don’t have a car yet. Text me.”

After Arcade and Raul leave, it’s just her and Veronica left. They sit on the couch together with their tea and coffee. ED-E wanders around the living room, poking his head under the loveseat. They sit quietly, watching the sun slowly set out the window, painting the Vegas skyline bright purple and orange. Veronica breaks the silence.

“Thank you for doing this, Lynn.”

“For doing what? Taking down the Legion?”

“Yeah,” Veronica sets down her now-empty mug. “I saw Nelson once, not long after they took it over.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It was awful. Nelson was a gorgeous town, the people there-the women there, especially- didn’t deserve what they did.”

Lynn sets down her mug and scoots closer to Veronica, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let that happen to Vegas. Won’t let it happen to us. Any of us. That-that’s why I’m doing this. It’s not just for me anymore.” Veronica looks up at her. _She means so much to me,_ Lynn realizes. _I’m doing this for her, too._

Lynn leans in and kisses her. Veronica eagerly leans into it, kissing her back and putting a hand on the back of Lynn’s neck.

After a few seconds, they pull away and stare at each other. Lynn feels like she’s floating, her brain stuffed full of happiness. With Veronica in front of her, the Legion threat feels worlds away. Veronica leans in and kisses her again.

* * *

 

Lynn pulls into the short driveway and unclips her seatbelt. She double checks the address on the package on the top of her pile, verifying that it’s the same as the one on the house. She exits her truck, package in hand, and walks up to the door. She was planning on leaving the package at the door. However, the front door is opened as soon as she steps on the porch.

“What do you want?” a man grumpily demands. At first Lynn doesn’t recognize him.

To be fair, if Vulpes-fucking-Inculta was standing in front of you in a fox onesie, you probably wouldn’t immediately recognize him either.

“Uh, just a package. For you. J-just,” Lynn pulls out a clipboard, “here.” _Does he recognize me? Okay, that’s a stupid question. Of course he does, he’s Caesar’s best Frumentarius!_

"I just sign here or what?" he says, squinting at the clipboard in his hand. In his other hand is a mug that says ‘For Fox’s Sake’.

“Yeah?” Lynn is quietly dying. _Does he seriously not recognize me? Also, what the fuck._ He scribbles a signature and shoves the clipboard back in her hands. He takes the package and slams the door shut in her face.

She walks back to her mail truck in shock, taking one last look at the normal-looking suburban ranch house.

* * *

 

Lynn surveys the crowded room from her seat. She takes a sip of her wine, then sets down her glass on a nearby table and stands up.

The NCR was holding an extravagant party in Las Vegas. They had booked the banquet room and gardens of a nearby nature preserve for the occasion. Many high-ranking officers were attending, as well as normal soldiers and infantrymen. The event was to commemorate the fifth anniversary of NCR presence and control of Vegas. Many city officials and celebrities were also invited for the occasion, including the mayor.

Officially, Lynn was invited because of her outstanding work clearing West Vegas of the Fiend gang and other smaller feats. Unofficially, she was there for the Legion.

One of the officers, a Sergeant Theodore, was going to be in possession of a USB drive full of intelligence on the region south of Vegas. Lynn had to steal the information and kill the Sergeant, then plant evidence on Chief Hanlon that will implicate him as a Legion spy.

Lynn had received an ornate invitation in the mail to the gala. Thankfully, considering her reputation within the NCR, she didn’t have to create an elaborate false backstory for herself.

She self-consciously straightens her ombre purple gown and walks towards the buffet table. She had found that the easiest way to blend in was to be comfortable, and for her that meant half-heartedly picking through bland appetizers while making small talk. She scoops mini cream puffs and bruschetta on her plate.

“Lynn, is that you?” Corporal Sterling of the 1st Recon unit comes up to her.

“Corporal, it’s good to see you!” Lynn turns to face him. “Are you still over at McCarran?”

She makes small talk with the grizzled veteran for a few minutes before she catches sight of her target over his shoulder.

Sergeant Teddy was a very short man with lightly tanned skin and short dark hair. Lynn catches his eye and flashes him a confident smile, then returns to her conversation.

Corporal Betsy and Lieutenant Gorobets join them, towing a reluctant and grumpy Boone with them.

“Ah, Lynn,” the Lieutenant says, shaking her hand. “I’m not sure you’ve ever met Boone. He retired from 1st Recon a few years ago.” Boone nods at her and cracks a miniscule smile.

“In fact, I do. He helped me out once down in Novac.” While Boone knew that she would be at the party, she hadn’t told him any details of her mission: the less he knew, the safer he was. They had decided their story together ahead of time. Lynn tunes out the chatter around her and subtly looks around the room. Sergeant Theodore is talking with an officer that Lynn doesn’t recognize. The officer notices her gaze and steers the Sergeant over to her group.

“Captain Curtis,” Lieutenant Gorobets greets him. “It’s been a while.”

Lynn recognizes the name, but not the man. She only knows him as a senior officer at Camp McCarran. Major Dhatri, when giving her Fiend bounties, had mentioned him once or twice. The Captain greets everyone in turn.

“And Miss Horrigan, I’ve heard great things about you,” Curtis puts a heavy hand on her shoulder and smiles at her. “I’d like to present Sergeant Theodore. He’s recently transferred to the Vegas region.”

She smiles and extends her hand to the Sergeant, who takes it and shakes it.

“It’s a pleasure, Ma’am.” His voice is gravelly and deep, but quiet.

“Oh, please just call me Lynn.” She keeps her hand in his for just a second longer than necessary. She purposefully bites her lip, and feels a small glow of success when Theodore’s eyes flicker down to her lips.

Her plan: seduction. Sergeant Theodore had a reputation for being enthralled by lovely men and women, and Lynn planned to use that to her advantage. She had chosen a very flattering and unique dress, and had done her makeup in such a way to put an emphasis on her lips and eyelashes.

Her backup plan: being an interesting and well-rounded woman. She was confident in her ability to charm someone even without using sex appeal.

Her backup backup plan: pickpocket him, then leave the party and get the sniper rifle in her car.

As Theodore is talking with Corporal Sterling, Lynn sees his eyes flick towards her from time to time. After a few minutes, he approaches and puts a hand on her arm.

“So Lynn, what brings you to this party, if you aren’t actually a part of the NCR?”

“Oh I took down that group of Fiends in West Vegas,” Lynn fully turns towards him. “Actually, how about I tell you the whole story? But,” she leans in closer, “it’s too loud here. Let’s go someplace quieter.”

“Okay. Lead the way.” Theodore does not even hesitate. Lynn looks down at his eager eyes and feels a little bad. _This is too easy._

She elegantly takes his arm and leads him out of the banquet room into the extensive desert gardens. They stroll in comfortable silence for a few minutes before stopping on the edge of an ornamental lake. They haven’t come across anyone else on their walk; the gardens seem to be deserted.

“This is lovely,” Theodore turns to her. “Lynn, you are a very lovely woman, and I,” he takes her hands in his, “I would love to get to know you better.”

“Theodore,” Lynn moves closer to him.

“Please, call me Teddy. All of my friends do.”

“Okay, _Teddy_ , I would like that too.” Lynn leans in and kisses him. “Why don’t we start right now?”

He kisses her back, wrapping a hand around her neck. She puts her left hand on his shoulder, and reaches her right hand into her purse. For a second, she pauses with uncertainty. _The other missions Vulpes gave me were all less…up close and personal than this one. Killing someone like this...at least I didn’t stab Benny in the back. Tricking someone, then murdering them when they least expect it? That’s far from what I like to do. It just feels…wrong. Dishonest._

Lynn quickly steels herself. She pulls a knife out of her bag, then raises it. Using all of her strength, she stabs the knife in the back of Sergeant Teddy’s neck, severing his spinal cord and instantly killing him. He doesn’t even have time to make a noise before he’s slumping over. She hastily lowers him to the ground, taking care not to get any blood on her dress. There’s already blood on her hands, but that can be easily taken care of. _Sorry, buddy. You didn’t really deserve this. But what’s done is done._

First, Lynn rummages through Teddy’s pockets and pulls out the USB drive, putting it in a hidden pocket in her purse. Next, she takes a rag and lays it on the ground. She tugs the knife out of Sergeant Teddy’s neck and wraps it in the rag, then places the whole bundle in her purse. Then she rolls his corpse into the lake, making sure it sinks to the bottom. Finally, she takes a package of wipes from her purse and wipes off her hands, making sure that there is no blood on the rest of her body. She throws the wipes away in a random trash can on the way back to the main party.

Lynn is slightly trembling as she walks back into the banquet room. Her stomach is churning with a mix of adrenaline and anxiety, but she keeps a smile on her face. As soon as she enters, she leans against a wall and pretends to be checking her phone. _Next step is going to be near-impossible. Which is why I’m going to mess it up on purpose._ She spots Chief Hanlon discussing what seems to be important matters with the mayor of Vegas. Captain Curtis stands next to him, looking a little worried.

She scans the room for any possible second options to plant the evidence on. _It has to be someone NCR, but not high-ranking._ She spots several soldiers animatedly drinking together. _But I’m not sure I’m stealthy enough to sneak the knife into the pocket of someone in this room. Maybe if they’re drunk and alone? But-but that’s still impossible. With all these people around…I could always try to find someone in the gardens, but then they’d realize very soon that it was me. That’s too suspicious._

She takes a deep breath. _I need to calm down and think. Even if I can’t ‘mess up’ and plant the evidence on someone random, I still need to get rid of the knife in a place where it can be found. I can leave it in the bathroom or try to flush it down the toilet._ She starts walking towards the bathroom, turning down a hallway and opening the bathroom door.

Lynn collides with a person coming out of the bathroom.

“Ow!” A little girl falls to the floor in front of Lynn. She drops her cute little girl purse and a large teddy bear.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Lynn instinctively kneels in front of her, helping her up. The little girl nods and brushes off her sparkly pink dress. Lynn reaches down to pick the purse up. The girl is still looking down at herself, not paying any attention to her.

_Don’t even think about it,_ a corner of her brain whispers, but she’s already half-decided on the idea. _It’s the perfect plan. An easy way to get rid of the evidence without implicating anyone. Obviously, this little girl didn’t commit the crime. And she seems too young to notice the knife in her bag until it’s too late. She’s so young to remember me or have any idea that I was involved._

Lynn inwardly grimaces, sneakily taking the knife from her purse and slipping it into the little girl’s. _I’m going to get like seven years bad luck for this._ She hands the purse over. The girl doesn’t seem to notice the weight difference.

“Thank you, I’m okay now!” She picks up her teddy bear and merrily skips away. Lynn straightens up and goes into the empty bathroom. She meticulously washes her hands, removing any trace of blood from under her fingernails. _Out, damn’d spot! Out, I say!_ She dries her hands, inwardly rolling her eyes at herself. _Oh no, I’m turning into Arcade with these nerdy references._ After touching up her smudged lipstick, she calmly returns to the party.

She mingles with 1st recon, chatting with Colonel Betsy about the group’s recent transfer to Camp Forlorn Hope. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice the absence of the Sergeant. The rest of the evening passes without incident. Even so, she only starts breathing easily when she finally gets home, takes off her finery, and curls up in her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually loosely inspired by the unmarked side quest [Saving (or Savaging) Sergeant Teddy.](http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Saving_\(or_Savaging\)_Sergeant_Teddy)
> 
> Lynn's [dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/16/3b/5f/163b5f1534958416c6c1cca25151a5fc--ombre-prom-dresses-prom-gowns.jpg) and [makeup/hair.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/41/62/f2/4162f20e785fc75608342490f9ee4c6b.jpg)
> 
> The little girl's [outfit.](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1.uvrIpXXXXbcXXXXq6xXFXXXn/Pettigirl-Girls-New-Party-Dresses-Hot-Pink-Sequin-Dress-For-Little-Girls-Fancy-Dresses-Children-Beading.jpg)
> 
> Next chapter: a short interlude before shit hits the fan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bits and pieces before the shit hits the fan.

ED-E looks up at the wall. This is the big special wall, the one that the humans go in and out of. He paces in front of it, bored of staying inside. He had played with all of his toys, and even practiced jumping from object to object, trying to stay off the floor. He had hunted for the little food containers that the humans had hidden away as a game. But still, he longed for adventure.

Remembering how they pulled down on the protruding part of the wall, he leaps up and grabs a hold of it, using his body weight to pull it down. But it doesn’t move.

Then ED-E remembers seeing one of them hit another little part before opening it. It’s too high for him to reach, so he jumps back on the handle, balancing his back paws on it. He plays with the other latch for a few minutes until he can figure out how to turn it so it clicks.

The door swings open. Freedom!

He gracelessly tumbles to the ground and excitedly noses it open, emerging into the long, skinny room. To his right is a wall, but to his left is another special wall. He deftly opens his one, which doesn’t have a special part on it. In front of him is a strange hallway. He remembers the humans carrying him down this when they would take him to the fun green place.

He hesitantly puts a paw on the lowered ground. Then he puts another. His second paw slips on the hard, slippery surface, and he tumbles down the stairs headfirst.

ED-E rolls and rolls and rolls until he stops. He sniffs and sneezes once, then scrambles to his feet and tries the next set of these stairs. This time, he fares slightly better, getting halfway down before falling.

Finally, ED-E slinks into the lobby. It’s empty and quiet. He jumps up on a counter and swipes at imaginary mice, his tail wagging back and forth. ED-E hears a noise from the door he just came through, and jumps off the counter, sliding beneath a table.

“And have you been taking your meds consistently, like I asked you to do?” a man asks, walking past his hiding place. Another lighter pair of feet patter next to the man’s.

“Yes, dear,” an old woman’s voice croaks, “Even though I don’t like them. They make grandma so tired. But my neighbor, such a sweet and smart girl, she convinced me that I should.” The woman’s flat brown shoes stop in front of ED-E, but she continues prattling on, opening something above his head.

ED-E curiously pokes his head out, recognizing the voice. Suddenly, he’s scooped up into a gangly pair of arms. ED-E yowls and tries to escape, scratching viciously at the person.

“Whoa, there, little buddy, what are you doing here?” the man asks, wrestling to keep ED-E in his hands.

It’s the nice man! ED-E stops struggling and purrs up at him. This is the man that Lynn had taken him to shortly after rescuing him from the mean man with the scary office. The nice man’s office was still scary, but at least Lynn gave him a sweet treat afterwards. It was almost worth having to sit through all of the poking and prodding. The nice man had called him a good cat (which he was, of course!) and had given him a little kiss on the head after everything was done.

“Oh, it’s Ed-die!” the old woman exclaims, reaching out to pat him on the head. ED-E meows in affirmation; it’s close enough to his actual name. “This is my neighbor’s cat!”

He is transferred into the woman’s arms. Unlike other old women, she wore no overpowering perfume. In fact, she had a wonderful earthy smell.

“I can take care of him until she gets home,” the woman says. “Thank you for vising me, Henry.”

They head back up to the old woman’s apartment, where ED-E hangs out for the rest of the day. His curiosity is stimulated by poking around the rooms and closets, jumping on tables and windowsills to catch a new glimpse of the world outside. The old woman gives him a little snack of peeled apple bits, which he gleefully snaps up.

Finally, his fun day comes to an end when Lynn knocks on the door and he has to go back home. She thoroughly scolds him and gives him no treats for the next few days. But ED-E knows that if he ever gets that bored again, he can always run out and scratch at the nice old woman’s door.

* * *

 

 

The car ride to Lynn’s apartment was silent. She even kept the radio off, stealing glances over at Raul in the passenger seat. He fidgets: tugging at a loose thread on his old mechanic jumpsuit, fiddling with a small piece of electronic junk from his pocket, flipping his new phone over and over with deft but wrinkled fingers.

When Lynn opens her apartment door, ED-E enthusiastically runs up to her and leaps into her arms.

“Hey, there, buddy,” she cradles him like a baby. “Did you get into any trouble while I was gone? Try to escape again, or tear up the loveseat?” ED-E meowed negatively. Ironically, he detested the plain loveseat with every fiber of his tiny little body, instead preferring to curl up on the ugly orange couch.

Lynn bends down to take off her shoes. ED-E moves to perch on her shoulder while she unlaces her tennis shoes. Raul also toes off his boots, leaving them next to her pair. Veronica’s shoes are conspicuously absent; she was working late. Lynn lets ED-E transfer to Raul’s shoulders. They sit down on the couch together while she goes to the kitchen to get some refreshments. If this is going to be a rough talk, she wants copious amounts of junk food for it.

“So how are things going now?” Lynn plops down next to Raul, setting two bottles of water and a bag of Olive Oil Popcorn on the coffee table.

“Fine, thanks.”

“And Arcade? Is that all working out?”

Raul scratches under ED-E’s chin. “Yeah. He’s real nice, boss.”

Lynn tries to think of something else to say. _Should I just get straight to the point?_ Thankfully, Raul beats her to it.

“I want to help, I really do. It’s just that,” ED-E purrs and curls up in Raul’s lap, effectively trapping him. “I’m just not sure…”

Lynn frowns. “Not sure of what?”

“It’s not the danger, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he flashes a small smile up at her. “That doesn’t bother me in the least. At my age, anything’s better than boredom. But that’s just it: my age.” He pauses and looks down at ED-E.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Lynn opens her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off with one hand. “Please, boss, I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that something like that doesn’t stop me. But it _does._ Do you know how old I am?”

Lynn thinks. “If the incidents were, uh, almost two hundred years ago…”

“Technically, it was two hundred and ten years, but the government tried to cover them up for a few years, of course. I was twenty-five when it happened.” He swallows hard. _I’ve never told anyone this before._ “I was the only one of my family to completely survive. My sister died in the hospital afterwards.”

“I-I’m sorry, Raul,” Lynn scoots closer but doesn’t touch him. _That’s right,_ she remembers her school lessons on the incidents. _I always forget that only about 10 percent of people affected actually survived as ghouls. The rest…_

“It’s okay now, I’ve come to terms with it.” Raul pulls himself out his morose state and continues more passionately. “But that puts me at almost two hundred and forty, boss. And that’s too old to be gallivanting around like you do, punching mutants in the face with your crazy strength and jumping off buildings or whatever.”

Lynn cracks a smile at that. “You don’t have to be fighting with us to still _be_ with us, though. I mean, goodness knows I’m not putting Arcade in a fight. He’d get snapped like a twig! But there are other ways that you could be a valuable team member, Raul.”

“I guess so…”

“And violence isn’t the solution to _everything_. If my approach to every situation was to rush in guns blazing, I’d be no better than the bad guys. That, and I’d be paying our good old doctor a visit every day. I need someone to support the team. And that someone can be you, Raul.”

Raul fiddles with the end of his long ponytail, his hair tied back for work. He looks at Lynn, really takes her in. Notices how young and vulnerable she looks, even if she towers over him by several inches. _She needs this, she needs **me**_ **.** _This whole city does. Maybe…just maybe, this is my chance to do some good again._

“Count me in then, boss.”

* * *

 

Veronica adjusts the large straw hat on her head, grateful for having recently gotten a haircut. The mid-July sun beats down on her back.

“So you’ve really never done this before?” She asks Lynn, who is standing next to her.

Lynn is similarly dressed in light summer clothes and a large hat. She reaches into the large bush in front of her and pulls out a handful of plump blueberries.

“No,” she dumps the berries into the basket around her waist, “I like it so far though. Kind of wish it wasn’t so humid, though.”

“Well, this is the only time that blueberries are in season.” Veronica’s next handful goes right into her mouth instead of her basket. “We could go get ice cream on the way back, though.”

“You are just full of good ideas today, babe,” Lynn grins over her shoulder.

Veronica had suggested going to the nearby U-Pick farm for blueberries as their official first date. Lynn had protested that this was not actually their first date, but Veronica had argued that watching Netflix on the couch and taking ED-E to the park did not count as actual dates. So the two of them had dressed in their cutest warm-weather clothing, liberally applied sunscreen, and drove out to the farm.

Now, Veronica pauses in her berry picking and looks over at Lynn, who is standing on tiptoe to reach a large cluster. _She looks so relaxed and innocent,_ Veronica muses. _She’s been so stressed out this past month with all of the Legion crap going on, she hasn’t really gotten a chance to unwind._ Lynn bites her lip and tilts her head; the sun makes her dark skin glow. Veronica stands and stares at her for a few seconds before snapping herself back to the present task.

After a few minutes of calm berry picking, Lynn suddenly yelps and jumps back.

“What?” Veronica rushes to her side and grabs her arm.

Lynn hesitantly points at a leaf. “It’s a _bee,_ ” she whispers. There is indeed a large honeybee perched on a leaf in the bush.

“Oh,” Veronica relaxes and puts an arm around Lynn. Their berry baskets clank together. “Is that it?”

Lynn shoots her a panicked look. “Let’s leave.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Lynn whispers. “I’m allergic to bees.”

“Why are we whispering?” Veronica whispers back, then sees that Lynn is actually serious. “Alright, I think we’ve probably picked enough anyways.” She kisses Lynn as they start walking back to the farm entrance.

In the end, they had picked over five pounds of blueberries. They were eating blueberry muffins, pancakes, pies, and smoothies for weeks.

* * *

 

“We can’t buy that.” Arcade glowers at Raul, who glares right back.

“It’s cute. We should buy it.”

“We don’t _own_ a cat,” Arcade argues. “And if you’re suggesting we buy it for that demon spawn from hell-”

Raul gasps in mock-horror. “But ED-E always needs more toys! You can’t deny him his fun, that’s just evil!”

“He’s the evil one!”

At the end of the aisle, a middle-aged woman stares at them. Raul’s not sure if it’s because of his ghoulified appearance or the fact that two grown men are arguing in a Whole Foods over a stuffed cat toy. It’s probably both.

“Fine,” he whines, putting the toy back on the shelf.

“Let’s just buy what we came here for,” Arcade rubs his eyes. “You’ve already tried to buy seven different kinds of shampoo. We already have a full bottle of shampoo at home. We don’t need another one.” Their small cart is nearly empty, but does contain several boxes of granola and a large bottle of jojoba oil. Arcade had protested that purchase too, until Raul had pointed out that it was for his hair. Arcade, having recently been given permission to touch Raul’s hair, had immediately shut his mouth and put the oil in the basket.

Jojoba oil? $8.95 per bottle.

The feeling of running his hands through Raul’s super-soft and gorgeous hair? Priceless.

They’ve finally moved on to the cheese and dairy section. Raul is pushing the cart, half-leaning on it and almost hitting angry mothers with it due to his bad eyesight. Arcade is walking next to him, holding a grocery list that they had wrote together, to minimize the duration of their trip. He’s unsure whether or not it’s actually working; it feels like they have been in the store for an hour.

After leaving the dairy section with five different containers of organic yogurt in their cart (‘the probiotics, Raul, the bacteria are good for your joints!), Raul steers the cart towards the bulk foods. This is one of the most important parts of their shopping trip; if not for the bulk section, they would have just gone to Trader Joe’s for their groceries. While Arcade beelines for the quinoa and other doctor-approved healthy grains, Raul checks out the spices. He reaches for the scoop for cornmeal when he spots something right above it. It’s an odd grey-blue color; he reads the label: Blue Cornmeal.

“Arcade, look!” He shows an almost-full bag of it to his roommate. “Isn’t this cool?”

“What are you even going to use that for?”

“Uh, cornbread, obviously. I _am_ Mexican, get with the times.”

“Well, I didn’t want to stereotype- are you seriously getting that many gummy bears, you are a _grown man_.”

Raul innocently looks up from the giant bag of Organic Agave Gummy Bears in his other hand. He places them in the cart with a giant, shit-eating grin. Arcade groans. How can he say no to that face?

“We have a lot more to get,” Arcade frowns down at their list. “We should probably split up.”

“Aw, babe,” Raul leans even further on the cart, if possible. “I thought we really had something good going on.”

“T-that’s not,” Arcade feels his cheeks grow warm. _Is he…flirting with me?_ “Do you really think I’d give a treasure like you up, just like that?” _Two can play this game._

Raul stares at him for a second, then snatches the list from his hand and walks away.

Arcade bites his lip and stares at his retreating back. _Did I mess this up?_

 

Raul turns the corner of the aisle and takes a deep breath. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks about what just happened. He admits that he might have been flirting just a little, but never thought that the feeling was in any way mutual.

He stands in the cereal aisle and has a mini-freakout for a minute. Then he pulls himself together like the over 200-year-old man that he is and looks down at the list in his hand. He might as well actually start getting some of the stuff on it while he’s here. He wanders down the aisle, picking up a box of breakfast bars and a package of brownie mix and tucking them under his arm. He squints down at the list, wishing he’d written it more neatly.

He turns the corner to the next aisle and collides with another person. He stumbles back and only just manages to hold on to the groceries in his hands.

“Sorry about that!” The other man says, putting a hand on Raul’s arm to steady him. “Are you okay?”

Raul looks up at him and feels a faint flicker of recognition, but can’t place this man’s face or voice. He’s wearing a beanie and a large pair of hipster glasses with no lenses in them. Despite his average-hipster-Whole-Foods-shopper looks, though, there’s something off-putting about him. Raul can’t exactly put his finger on it, but he does notice that the man is standing a little too close to him. _Maybe it’s just the personal bubble, but still…_

“I’m fine, thanks,” Raul subtly takes a step back. The other man’s hand is still on his arm, so he doesn’t get very far.

“Do you need any help carrying anything? I couldn’t leave a cute guy like you trying to haul everything alone.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Raul’s head. He flashes an insincere and nervous smile, leaning back slightly.

“No, thanks. I’m actually here with, uh,” he spots Arcade out of the corner of his eye across the store, “with my uh, boyfriend. I have to get back to him now, bye!”

He fast-walks over to Arcade, who looks surprised and incredibly awkward. Raul dumps the stuff in his hands into the cart, then casually grabs Arcade’s hand.

“Raul?” Arcade yelps, the tips of his ears bright red. “What-”

“Hey, just play it cool, cariño,” Raul whispers. “Some weird-ass dude just hit on me in the like, five seconds I was gone.”

Arcade forces himself to relax, face bright red. He clears his throat and adjusts his hand in Raul’s. “Let’s just finish up with the produce section, then.” They shop for a few minutes in silence. Raul doesn’t see the weird guy anywhere, so he starts to relax too.

“Do we need any apples?” Arcade asks.

“I don’t know?”

“Well, look at the list. That’s why we made one, after all.”

Raul frowns up at him. “I don’t have the list, you do.”

“No, I don’t. You took it.”

Raul stares at him in confusion. “Yes, and then I gave it back to you, right? I don’t have it now. Hold on,” he checks his pockets, but comes up empty.

“Excuse me,” a very familiar voice says from behind them. “You dropped this.”

Raul inwardly groans and turns to face Creepy McHipster, who is holding out their lost grocery list.

Next to him, Arcade stiffens and squeezes his hand tightly. His jaw his clenched and his light blue eyes steely behind his glasses.

“Uh, thank you?” Raul starts to reach for the list, but Arcade beats him to it. He snatches it from the man’s hand, stepping forward to half-block Raul.

“Thanks,” Arcade hisses, eyebrows furrowed. He held eye contact with the man for a full second, who just smirks up at him, then turns away. Arcade, his back still ramrod-straight, starts pushing the cart towards the front.

“Whoa, hey,” Raul barely keeps up with his fast pace. Arcade’s almost towing him by the hand, still gripping it painfully tight. “What’s wrong?”

Arcade abruptly stops and Raul almost runs into him. “That was,” he leans in close to Raul, “I’m almost completely sure that that was Vulpes Inculta.”

“Wha-“ Raul starts to loudly say, but stops himself. “ _What_?” he whispers. “Why would he even…”

“I don’t know,” Arcade starts slowly walking again. “I mean, we haven’t even _done_ anything yet with Lynn. As far as he’s concerned, you’re just her friend, and I’m just her doctor.”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence?”

They look at each other, both knowing that it was absolutely _not_ just a coincidence.

“Maybe. Let’s just go.”

From two aisles over, Vulpes intently watches them, confused. _It’s almost like the Followers doctor actually recognized me. That’s worrying…Considering his hostile reaction, we’d better go to Plan B for now._

* * *

The small café on the corner of Flamingo and Arville is bustling. Sleep-deprived students are mixed with smartly-dressed office workers. It’s a hub of activity and conviviality, just minutes away from the Strip.

Vulpes Inculta hates it. He feels like every coffee shop is filled with disgusting and deplorable people. In that way, it’s not different from the whole damned city he’s forced to live in. What’s worse, he doesn’t even like coffee. He classifies it as a substance that only the weak and foolish consume. Even the smell of it almost turns his stomach.

Unfortunately, his coworkers do not share his distaste. Even more unfortunate is that none of them remember to stop at a café for their daily dose of poison. Instead they complain like children until he reluctantly agrees to go and buy them some. Of course, he will willingly go buy coffee for Caesar. Vulpes frowns, tapping his foot impatiently while he waits in line. His leader had been unusually irritable lately, probably because of his increasingly painful headaches. Even the strongest pain medication had not been enough to soothe his aching head.

He rubs his eyes. _He’s_ going to have an aching head if the cashier doesn’t stop loudly chattering away at every customer in front of them. He wishes that he could wear his Legion uniform, just to scare them into shutting their mouth for five minutes. Of course, he is not wearing his Frumentarii uniform. Instead, he changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. With a baseball hat on his head, he looks like a normal, non-Legion citizen.

“I’m just saying, I think you should be careful on this one!” A woman’s voice is slightly raised in concern.

At first, Vulpes had been ignoring the conversations around him. But now the louder voice catches his ear. It sounds oddly familiar, though he can’t place the identity. He subtly glances to the side. Two people are sitting at a table together to his left, but he can’t really see them clearly.

“It’s been fine so far.” This voice is more masculine and gruff.      

“Only because we’ve only been doing small stuff! Boone, we’re lucky that they haven’t figured anything out yet! You were reckless enough at Cottonwood, but we gotta be more careful here.”

The man leans back in his chair. Vulpes can now take a good look at him. He’s bald and dressed plainly, except for the bright red NCR beret on his head. _An NCR soldier? And are they talking about Cottonwood Cove? Or is that just a coincidence?_

“Hm.”

“And some of them probably are dense, but not,” the woman’s voice lowers, and he strains to continue listening. “But not _Vulpes_.”

It takes all of his willpower to force himself to not react. Inwardly, though, he’s reeling in confusion. For a moment he considers that she might be talking about someone else. But ‘Vulpes’ is not a very common name. As far as he’s concerned, it’s unique. There’s no one else she could possibly be talking about. In a flash, it’s obvious to him who the woman is, even without seeing her.

He misses the conversation that follows; it’s his turn to order. He almost just steps out of line to continue listening, but decides that would be too suspicious. He hastily fishes a list of drinks out of his pocket, trying to keep half an ear out for the conversation behind him.

“What would you like, sir?” the cashier is gratingly chipper.

“I want a plain black hot coffee. The largest size you have. With extra caffeine.” _For Caesar._

“Is that all for today?”

“No, unfortunately not.” Vulpes sighs and squints at his list. “I also need a Tall Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher, unsweetened.” _For Lucius, always trying to be a healthy role model_. “And a Grande S’mores Frappucino, but in a Venti cup for some reason. Oh, with extra whipped cream.” _For Otho, who apparently wants to die an early death._ “And lastly, two small cups of whipped cream.” He double-checks the list. “Yeah, that’s all he wants. No coffee, no liquid, just whipped cream.” _For Antony, I guess._

“Oh, maybe for his dog? It’s called the Puppuccino!”

_Or apparently for Antony’s dogs._

“Sure. Whatever. That’s it.” Vulpes just wants to get back to eavesdropping on a conversation about him and how the Courier is probably betraying the entire organization he has vowed to serve.

“Oh, and a blueberry muffin, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your viewing pleasure, here is a [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYFIV5NV7m4) of cats opening doors and [falling down stairs.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-PQ5twyxpY)
> 
> We will see more of Lily soon, I promise!
> 
> Blueberry picking inspired by my own experience. Here's how to find a [U-Pick Farm](http://www.pickyourown.org/) near you! 
> 
> Here's how to use [Jojoba oil.](http://www.stylecraze.com/articles/amazing-benefits-of-jojoba-oil-for-skin-and-hair/#gref)
> 
> cariño = "babe/sweetie"
> 
> Are you a Whole Foods Gay™ or a Trader Joe's Lesbian™?
> 
> The [Puppuccino](http://www.extracrispy.com/drinks/839/the-starbucks-puppuccino-is-your-dogs-new-favorite-drink) is a real thing!
> 
> Next chapter: A cat may have nine lives, but a fox is not so lucky.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat may have nine lives, but a fox is not so lucky.
> 
> Warnings: Animal death, minor character death.

“Hold on a second, dearie!”

Lynn turns to face her next-door neighbor, Lily. She lets go of the handle of her apartment door.

“Oh, hi, Lily!”

“You know I said to call me grandma, dear!” Lily is an extraordinarily tall and strong-looking woman. Lynn guesses that she’s about 80 years old, but she’s not sure. Lily almost seems...older. She is an odd old lady, always wearing gardening attire and rarely seen without her straw hat.

“Okay, _grandma_ ,” Lynn says. “What is it?”

“Oh, Lynette, I almost forgot!” Lily seems to ignore the fact ‘Lynn’ is not actually short for ‘Lynette’. “A friend of yours came by while you were gone! Poor thing, he seemed so lost! Didn’t even know which floor you lived on.”

Lynn frowns. Who would try and visit her but not know where she actually lived? And why would Lily not recognize them?

“Such an odd young man, he came up to me while I was getting my mail. He was very polite, you understand. But, I was very silly that morning,” Lily sheepishly ducks her head, “and I hadn’t taken my meds yet, so I told him that you were playing hide and seek, and that I couldn’t tell him where you were.” She looks distant for a moment, then returns to the present. “I was very sorry that I couldn’t help him more, since he seemed so eager to find you.”

“Did he say what his name was?”

“No, sorry, he didn’t.”

Lynn sighs and tries to ignore the pit of worry in her stomach. “Well, what did he look like? Can you describe him to me?”

“He was really short,” Lily starts, “and had very normal brown eyes. His hair-oh wait! He was wearing a hat! I couldn’t see his hair! He, uh let me see, what else, uh…he had a very nice voice, very nice!” Lily seems to slump a little. “Except I think he started getting mad at me, because I couldn’t help him. His voice was not so nice then.”

 _That doesn’t describe anyone I know. This just sounds like a random guy. Very bland, boring-looking. Wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd. Wait._ Lynn racks her brain. _Blends in easily. Polite. Nice voice. Wears a hat._

_Vulpes._

“It’s okay, Lily,” Lynn pats her shoulder, forcing a smile. “He is a very mean friend. If you see him around again, tell me, okay?”

“Okay, dearie, but if he gets too mean, you can’t be his friend anymore, okay? Grandma says so.”

“Of course, grandma. Thanks, see you later!”

Lynn closes her apartment door and turns the lock and fastens the latch.

“Veronica!” she calls into the quiet apartment. Veronica must have heard the worry in her voice, because she comes into the living room in a jog.

“What’s wrong?”

Lynn drops onto the couch and toes off her boots. ED-E jumps onto the couch and clambers into her lap.

“Have you seen anyone suspicious around the apartment lately?” she scratches ED-E’s chin.

“No,” Veronica frowns. “What is this about?”

“It’s Vulpes.”

“What?”

“I think,” Lynn pauses to gather her thoughts.

_What if I’m wrong? What if I’m just paranoid, grasping at scraps of intuition? He could just be trying to find me to talk about something._

_What if I’m right?_

“I’m pretty sure that Vulpes came to our building today, trying to find me. Someone this morning asked Lily where I lived. Her description…sounds a lot like him.”

Veronica sits on the couch next to her and takes her hand. “Vulpes? But why? Do-do you think he _knows_?”

“I don’t know,” Lynn buries her hand in ED-E’s fur. He butts his head into her hip. “But, we should be more careful, just in case. If you see anyone weird hanging around or following you, call me.”

* * *

 

It’s a busy day at the bank downtown, so Lynn almost doesn’t spot him.

As soon as she walks in, package under arm, she feels eyes on her back. _Okay, now you’re really just being paranoid._ As the teller signs for the package, she shifts to the side and glances subtly over her shoulder. At first, she notices nothing. Nobody staring at her, with the exception of some curious children.

Then, she notices someone who seems to be specifically _not_ looking at her. He’s standing in line for a teller, wearing a Las Vegas 51’s baseball cap and a plain tank top. He’s looking down at his phone, seemingly _very_ focused on the screen. _Well, that’s not weird,_ Lynn tries to reassure herself. But there’s still a lingering doubt in the back of her mind. _There’s still something…different about him._

She turns back to the teller and takes back the clipboard. As she turns back towards the door, a glimpse of movement catches her peripheral vision. _Someone quickly glancing at me and then looking away?_ She walks a little closer to the line of people than necessary, watching the man from the corner of her eye. He’s still looking down at his phone.

The screen is black.

Lynn starts to see him everywhere. Lynn starts to keep a knife in her purse and a pistol in her glove compartment. She ignores Vulpes and pretends not to recognize or acknowledge him. If he needed to pass a message or arrange a meeting, he would have already contacted her.

Vulpes is trying on sunglasses at the gas station. He’s perusing the magazines at the grocery store. Lynn even goes into a makeup store and he follows her. She can hear him a few rows over, asking an employee in his reedy, _annoying_ voice if ‘dark red lipstick would go with dark red hair, or if that be too _matchy-matchy_ ’.

Almost a week passes. Lynn has Raul install an extra lock on her door. She often wakes up in the middle of the night, thinking she heard a noise in her apartment. Her only comfort is ED-E, who has taken to sleeping at her feet at night.

* * *

 

ED-E scratches his shoulder again, sitting in a cat carrier strapped into the front seat.

“Hey, stop that,” Lynn reaches out and he licks her hand. She keeps her eyes glued to the road. “We’ll be at Dr. Henry’s soon.” On the passenger-side floor was a collection of household cleaners from her apartment. She had recently bought several new ones, and ED-E had developed an allergic reaction to one of them. He was scratching his body all over, so Lynn had quickly called the vet.

She taps on the steering wheel impatiently. Their car is sitting still in traffic on I-95, almost at the intersection with Lee Canyon Road, which she needs to turn on to get to the veterinary clinic.

Her phone rings. She fishes it out of her purse and glances down at it; it’s an unknown number. Used to mysterious phone calls by now, she answers it.

“Don’t turn left.” A voice says. She didn’t even have time to say ‘hello’.

“Why? Who is this?” Lynn looks at the cars around her and behind her.

“You know who this is.”

Lynn feels her blood freeze in her veins: It’s _Vulpes_. She gulps and her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Traffic in front of her is still stopped.

“What do you want? Do you have another mission for me?” she tries not to sound too stressed; after all, he might not actually know of her double-crossing. She thinks about the week she had; if he had a mission for her, he would have contacted her the normal way.

He laughs. It’s not a _fun_ laugh; Lynn’s stomach flops over.

“Oh, _Courier,_ I most certainly _do not._ You and me,” his voice darkens, “we need to have a chat.”

“Don’t turn left,” he repeats. “Keep going straight.”

“And if I don’t?” Lynn has decided that now is a good time to panic. _He probably knows. I don’t know how, but he does._

“Well, that would be, how do I put it?” Vulpes chuckles. “A very unwise and foolish idea. Mostly because of the explosives I put under the hood of your car, but also because if you tried to run… you wouldn’t get far.”

“You’re bluffing.” She says it in part to reassure herself. _He can’t…he didn’t. No._ Her breath is starting to stutter in her chest. _What if he messed with something else?_

“Are you _really_ willing to take that chance? With your precious kitty in the front seat?”

Lynn frantically looks around her, but still doesn’t see anything. ED-E meows and scratches at the door of the cat carrier.

“Fine,” she grits out, “where am I going?” The cars in front of her start to move.

“Keep going straight. After about, oh, five minutes, you’ll see an abandoned motel on your right.” Vulpes pauses. “I’ll see you there. Alone.”

He hangs up.

 

Lynn turns off the car. Above her is a crumbling motel sign that reads ‘Sundowner Motel’ in faded yellow letters. The setting sun throws long, creeping shadows on the broken windows and rotting balcony. It looks deserted, trash and scrap wood piled in the dark stairwell. There’s no other car in the overgrown parking lot, so Lynn’s not even sure that Vulpes is in there. 

She unbuckles her seatbelt and pulls a combat knife from her purse, tucking it in her belt. Then she reaches over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol and some ammunition, putting that in her pocket too. ED-E notices this and yowls.

“You gotta stay here, okay?” Lynn whispers, then startles at a noise from outside. She sees nothing. _Must have just been the wind._ ED-E meows even louder and furiously scratches at the wall of the cat carrier. The message is clear: don’t leave me alone in here. Lynn sighs. Even with night falling, it’s still very hot outside. Even if she was only gone for twenty minutes, the car would get too hot for him.

“Fine, but stay close, ED-E,” she unlocks his carrier and scoops him into his arms. She exits the car and locks it, stuffing the keys in her back pocket. ED-E climbs to sit across her shoulders, freeing up her arms.

Lynn starts on the ground floor, picking her away around piles of debris. She half-heartedly peeks in the windows of some of the rooms, but it’s too dark inside to see anything. One of the doors is half-open, swinging on its hinges. It creaks and groans, making a low _thud_ sound when it hits the doorway. Lynn reaches out and closes it; the noise sounds uncomfortably close to footsteps.

She ducks her head into another open door. It’s too dark to see anything, so she fishes out her phone and turns it on as a flashlight.

A shadow jumps out at her.

She jumps back, her breath caught in a gasp. But it’s only the tattered remains of a curtain. ED-E jumps off her shoulder and weaves around her ankles, meowing quietly. She bends over and gets her breath back.

Lynn faintly hears soft footsteps while she’s standing in the doorway. She ducks fully into the room, pulling the knife from her belt. She turns off her phone and stuffs it in her back pocket, thankful for her sensible outfit choices that morning. She’s dressed in a pair of old jeans and a crop top with a jean jacket thrown over it. Having planned to take ED-E to the park after his vet visit, she was wearing a heavy pair of boots.

The footsteps come closer.

Lynn readies her knife, whole body tense like a bowstring ready to snap. She listens closely, crouching behind the wall of the motel room, just under the window. The footsteps sound odd, like the person making them isn’t wearing shoes. She can hear them breathing heavily, getting closer and closer.

The footsteps stop just before the open door. Lynn holds her breath, ED-E at her side staying completely still, tail in the air. Then the person starts walking again, and Lynn peeks around the door.

Then something heavy and large bowls her over. She lands hard on her back, hitting her head on the soft shag carpet. The knife in her hand slips from her fingers.

Not a person: a dog. A gigantic mutt has pounced and is snarling down at her. She just manages to grab its neck and hold its fanged mouth at arm’s length from her face. She scrambles for the knife, but it’s just out of her reach.

The dog is standing right on her chest, preventing her from getting a proper breath in. Add to that the surprise of having a sixty pound animal attack her, and Lynn’s chest is burning. Her vision starts to get blurry, and she starts flailing, trying to punch the dog.

ED-E comes out of nowhere. He leaps on the dog and sinks his teeth in its neck, swiping his sharp claws across its face. The dog jumps back off Lynn’s chest, and she can finally breathe again. She uses the opportunity to grab her knife. Half-sitting up now, she stabs the dog. It slumps over, instantly dead. ED-E hops off it and rushes to her side, licking her hand.

Lynn just sits for a second, coughing. Then she gathers herself, grabbing her knife and standing up. With shaking hands, she scoops up ED-E, who perches himself on her shoulders once more.

With every creak and groan of the old motel building, she startles. Every shadow is another enemy, every flicker of light a possible attacker. By now, the horizon is almost completely dark. Lynn doesn’t dare turn on her phone again for fear of being seen. She navigates down the row of dusty motel rooms slowly and carefully. She tries a staircase up to the second floor, but the warped and rusted metal screams underneath her, so she leaves it alone.

At the end of the motel is the large main building, which seems in better condition. Lynn tries the front door; it’s locked. There’s not even an obvious window she can break to get in. _Maybe Vulpes isn’t in here. But where else would he be? This is the last building I haven’t checked yet._ She sneaks around to the side and finds a door slightly ajar.

Lynn crouches and peers in first. It’s pitch-black, but she can see a glimmer of light far down a hallway. Carefully, slowly, she pushes open the rusty door. It creaks, the noise echoing down the corridor. It’s empty.

She starts walking forward, peering into a few of the rooms, but they just contain the same trash and discarded recreation equipment that the others did. Lynn comes to a fork in the corridor. She peers down the left side: empty. Likewise for the right side. But on this side of the wall, she sees a large arrow spray-painted amongst the peeling wallpaper.

She looks back down the left side and listens closely. She hears nothing. Down the right side? Nothing.

Lynn ignores the arrow: maybe it’s a trap. She heads to the left, creeping along the dark corridor. ED-E silently follows, his pale green eyes eerily glowing. Lynn peers into room after room. One room has a row of pinball machines, the half-peeled away bright cartoon figures on them leering at her. Another contains stacks of boxes. Stray papers are scattered on the ground, rustling from some mysterious breeze.

One room is obviously the lobby of the building. A tall desk is leaned against the wall, a shelf on the ground next to it. Rusting keys have been dropped on the floor in front of it. Water leaks from the ceiling. Most notable, however, is the front door.

It’s so notable that Lynn doesn’t see the bear trap in the doorway until it’s too late.

A flash of metal is the only warning she gets before steel jaws close on her right foot. A spike of pain shoots up her leg; it spasms for a second. Lynn bites down hard on her lip to stifle her instinctual yell of pain. After a second, she collapses on the ground, extending her trapped foot in front of her. On her shoulder, ED-E is anxiously licking her face.

Lynn takes a deep breath to calm herself, then sets her foot down flat on the floor. She winces, holds her breath, and pushes as hard as she can on the long metal ‘arms’ of the bear trap. When she leans all of her weight on it, it goes down a few inches, opening the sharp steel mouth just enough for her to slide her boot out.

“Fuck,” she whispers through clenched teeth. Lynn cradles her foot, checking it over. It doesn’t seem broken, though it hurts _a lot_. Her boot took most of the crushing impact, but a few metal teeth had torn into her leg. Lynn tears the leg of her jeans off, wrapping it roughly around the wound. Grasping the doorframe, she pulls herself upright and puts some weight on her injured leg. It supports her, but spikes of pain shoot up her leg whenever she moves it. Lynn wipes her bloody hands on her jeans, then starts to limp down the hallway back the way she came.

She passes the arrow on the wall, keeping an eye out for more traps. Down this side of the hallway, there is only one door. It’s closed. Lynn stops right in front of it, ED-E on her heels.

Slowly, nervously, Lynn turns the knob and pushes the door open. She straightens to her full height and keeps her arms loosely at her side: not aggressive, but not unprepared either.

“Glad you can finally join me, Courier.” Vulpes stands completely still on the other side. The room he’s in the middle of is empty; no debris litter the floor or clutter the walls. He stands similar to Lynn: not outwardly aggressive. Two Legion dogs sit calmly on either side.

“Thanks for inviting me to the party,” she quips. “Should’ve rolled out the full red carpet experience.”

“I think I already did.” Vulpes eyes her tousled appearance and bandaged leg. He’s smiling, but his eyes are steely and cold. In that instant, Lynn knows that he _knows_. An awkward pause where they eye each other up.

“So.”

“So?” he echoes, tilting his head to the side. “Not even going to try to defend yourself? Come up with some clever lie, some way to deny your _betrayal_?”

“No.” Now that Lynn is face-to-face with Vulpes, her resolve strengthens. _I just want to get this over with._ “I know what I’ve done. Now, what are you going to do about it, mongrel?”

He draws his weapon: a short one-handed chainsaw. “I’m going to make sure you and your friends don’t get the chance to betray Caesar again,” he snarls, then attacks.

Lynn whips out her pistol and gets off one shot, cleanly shooting one of the dogs as it charges her. Then she leaps back, dodging a swing of Vulpes’ chainsaw. In the corner of her eye, she sees ED-E taking down the other dog. She raises her pistol again, aiming for Vulpes’ head. He swipes at her again. She fires wide, the bullet grazing his shoulder. He’s unfazed, swinging at her again and again until she’s forced back through the doorway.

Lynn only has two bullets left, which soon becomes irrelevant. Vulpes strikes the gun from her hands, sending it clattering to the ground. He catches her elbow with his next strike, leaving a small but deep gash. Then it’s his turn to dodge. Lynn hits him with punch after punch, getting in too close for him to use his weapon. She stuns him with a particularly hard hit, then turns and bolts back down the hallway.

She throws open the door to outside, skidding around a corner to catch her breath. ED-E had followed her when she had ran. He twines around her ankles and meows agitatedly.

“Go back to the car,” she whispers, patting his head with a shaking hand. “Hide there until I come back.” _If I come back._ ED-E does as he is told, scampering away into the darkness. The motel at night looks even more decrepit, if possible. Only a few electric lights still illuminate the parking lot. The whole building creaks and moans. Lynn shivers, feeling very much alone now.

Footsteps sound from the building behind her. Lynn limps as fast as she can, darting into an empty room just as Vulpes Inculta storms out. He furiously looks around, then starts silently creeping around the opposite side of the motel. She breathes easily for a second, then collects herself and draws her knife.

She stays crouched, every breath echoing in her ears. Lynn sneaks out of the room, moving around the side of the motel. Her eyes flicker back and forth: every scuffle on the ground could be a footstep, every rustle of grass an ambush.

A streetlight flickers and she jumps. A glance behind her: nothing there. She sets a hand on the ground to steady herself. Her injured leg is starting to go numb. Her cut elbow is dripping blood. She wishes she had time to bandage it, but with Vulpes still roaming around, she can’t stop, even for a second. Her hand holding the knife is slippery with sweat and blood.

Still, she continues.

Somehow, Lynn sees him before he sees her. _Damn, I wish I still had my gun. I could take him out in one shot._ She readies her knife and creeps closer, half-hidden by a stairwell.

There’s a soft _crunch_ , a sliver of glass from a broken window under her foot. Lynn sees Vulpes’ head start to turn and strikes. He dodges and nearly catches her with his chainsaw. Forces her back and back until she hits a wall. Vulpes is in front of her, the stairs to her right. Lynn doesn’t hesitate. _Fuck it._

She scurries up the stairs, metal screeching under her. The whole staircase wobbles dangerously, but holds her weight. The wooden balcony it leads to is even more unstable, several large pieces missing from it.

“You thought you could _run_ from me?” Vulpes snarls, close on her heels.

Lynn’s too far in her own head to respond; the adrenaline is starting to make her almost dizzy. That, or the way the balcony is tilted. She turns and lashes out with the knife.

Her knife slides into Vulpes’ chest and sticks. He yells and punches her in the face, sending her reeling back. She hits an open doorway and is hit with an unbelievably stupid and reckless plan. She holds on to either side of the doorframe and kicks him in the chest, driving the knife in even further. The force of her kick also sends him backwards into the balcony. He drops his weapon. She scoops it up and kicks him again. The rotting wood of the railing starts to crack.

Then Lynn takes his chainsaw, turns it on, and drives it into the junction between the balcony and the door. The severely weakened wood snaps. The sudden weight imbalance towards the very edge is the final straw.

The entire balcony buckles and falls. Vulpes falls backwards first, trying to grab some sort of handhold or edge. He screams as he hits the concrete, the entire balcony falling on top of him. Lynn winces at the loud crash, holding onto the doorframe for dear life, her injured leg buckling under her.

She uncurls her white-knuckled fingers and sits back. Then she looks down at the wreckage for any signs of movement: there’s none. Carefully, minding her injured leg, she safely drops down on top of the debris. On the very bottom of the huge pile, she finds his corpse. It’s still, his eyes closed. She checks for a pulse. Nothing.

 _He’s finally dead. I did it._ She struggles to her feet and limps around the side of the motel to her car. ED-E enthusiastically greets her, jumping into her arms.

“Hey, buddy, we made it,” she whispers into his fur. “Come on, we’d better get going. We’re going to have to postpone that visit to Doc Henry, though. We’ve got a different doctor to see.” ED-E meows in complaint, as if he understands that they’re going to visit Arcade instead. “Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s a big mean dude who doesn’t like you. But I really _do_ need to get my leg checked out. Come on.” She unlocks her car and climbs inside.

 

On the way back to Vegas, she calls Arcade.

“So good news and bad news.” Lynn’s driving with her uninjured arm, the other one laying half-bandaged in her lap.

“Ugh,” he sounds half-asleep.

“Oh shit, sorry, did I wake you up?” Lynn checks the time. It’s 10:30. _Who is even asleep at this time?_

“Yeah, just got to sleep,” he mumbles. “What’s wrong?”

“So the good news is that Vulpes Inculta is dead,” Lynn tries to sound chipper, but can’t help the wince in her voice.

“What?” Arcade yells, suddenly sounding very awake.

“And the bad news is that he totally found out about our plan. And actually, more bad news: I’m injured.”

Arcade groans and Lynn can just _hear_ the frustration in his voice.

“What’s going on?” Lynn suddenly hears Raul, sounding similarly tired and close to the phone. Too close to have just walked in the room.

“Uhhh…” Arcade sounds _very_ awkward.

“Are you guys…” Lynn puts the pieces together in record time. “Oh. My. Goodness. Gracious.”

“Listen, Lynn,” Arcade starts to protest.

“Holy. Shit.” _Finally._ “Anyways, I’m coming over. So, you know, have clothes on.”

“Lynn!” Arcade’s panicked shout is cut off.

She hangs up on him and fist-pumps the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some information on [cat allergies.](http://www.webmd.com/allergies/cat-allergies#1)
> 
> The [Sundowner Motel.](https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8255/8694919836_34ce083b84_b.jpg)
> 
> Here's how to escape from a [bear trap.](http://exploremarmaris.com/read/Survival/How%20to%20Free%20Your%20Leg%20from%20a%20Bear%20Trap.pdf)
> 
> RIP Vulpes, you will not be missed at all. 
> 
> Next chapter: Arcade makes a house call. Then he makes a phone call.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcade makes a house call. Then he makes a phone call.
> 
> Warnings: gunshot wounds (non-graphic), blood, someone gets tazed, drugs.

“Whoa, slow down buddy!” Veronica yelps and tries to keep up with ED-E, who seems eager to get to the park as fast as possible. Her arm is starting to get sore from holding his leash, and she feels her sundress sticking to her back in the late morning sun. She turns into the shady park and stops under a large tree.

ED-E hops onto a bench and meows, twitching one of his ears.

“Yeah, I got you,” Veronica says, pulling out a small bottle of water from her purse. She pours a little in her hand and offers it to ED-E, who laps it up. While he drinks, she checks her phone.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” Someone stops in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a red beret. “Can I pet your cat?”

Veronica looks up. Boone’s not in his usual outfit, instead opting for shorts and a light tanktop. Veronica, stifling any sign of recognition, can’t help but notice that he kept on the beret, despite the oppressive heat. It takes all of her acting prowess not to laugh.

“Yeah, sure!” She smiles innocently. He sits next to her on the bench and gently scratches behind ED-E’s ears, just the way he likes it.

“Techatticup mine,” she whispers, not looking at him. “There’s a large stockage of weapons in one of the caves nearby. The tour company is actually a front.” She turns her head slightly to the side and lets ED-E lick her hand. Boone just nods.

“Just us?”

Veronica subtly nods. “Lynn’s finishing up with the Khans right now. Tomorrow morning good?”

“Yes. I have Friday off.” Boone, never a man of many words, falls silent. He continues petting ED-E for a minute, then stands up.

“Thanks.”

Veronica catches a glint in the corner of her eye. She starts to react, to call out a warning, but ED-E beats her to the punch. With a vicious yowl, he leaps up and sinks his claws into Boone’s shoulder. The man is caught off-balance and stumbles backwards, just as a bullet whizzes in front of him.

“What the hell!” Veronica yells, whirling around the bench and ducking behind the tree. Boone follows her, ED-E at his feet. They crouch shoulder-to-shoulder together.

“I’ve got my rifle in my car.”

“That’s great, but you’re not going to make it two feet out there!” Veronica flinches as a bullet hits the bark next to her foot. “And I’m not armed.” She opens her cross body bag. “I’ve got, like, a pocketknife and that’s it.”

Boone hums, eyebrows furrowed. Behind them, the sniper stops firing. They look at each other in silence, both thinking the same thing. Boone reaches down to his foot and grabs a pinecone. He tosses it out. With a resounding crack, it’s obliterated into shards.

“Cover me?” he proposes. Veronica can see how uneasy he looks at the idea, and silently agrees with his discomfort. After all, they haven’t actually fought together before; their mission tomorrow was going to be their first time working together.

Veronica grimly nods and forces a smile. “Sure, I’ll try my best.” She braces herself and nods to Boone.

“Move erratically, speed too,” he offers. “Try to find cover. Good luck.” He picks up another pine cone and counts down with his fingers: three, two, one.

Veronica sprints from behind the tree, then skids sharply to the left. A bullet tears through the grass where her feet just were and her heart skips a beat. She zig-zags at random. Her vision is hyper-focused right now: all she’s aware of is each step in front of her, all of her concentration focused on distracting the sniper. She ducks behind a tree to catch her breath.

Then she yelps and pulls her foot back. She had slightly misjudged the sniper’s position, and didn’t tuck herself fully out of his scope. The bullet grazed just above her ankle, leaving a short red gash. Veronica breathes for a minute, until the sniper stops firing. She shoots a glance at the direction Boone had ran off; she has to give him more time to get his gun and get in position. Unfortunately, that means keeping the sniper’s attention for as long as possible.

She readies herself, pauses, and goes. First, she kicks a foot out in front of her and quickly withdraws it. As soon as the bullet hits the dirt, she’s off running. She stays low and fast, doubling back on herself a few times. Behind a bench, through a grove of small trees. She pauses behind a bush, just for an instant. The closest big tree is across a clearing.

 _Don’t stop, don’t worry, just do it_ , she screams at herself, and runs out into the empty space. She gets halfway across the clearing before the sniper finally manages to hit her. She feels it, internally screams as the bullet tears through her left arm, but keeps running and dodging until she’s in cover.

Once she’s safely behind the tree, the pain fully hits her. She grits her teeth and forces herself to look at her left arm. Just under her shoulder, her arm is coated in blood. She cranes her neck and spots a hole on the back of her arm too. Her heavy breathing from running becomes even weightier and strained now. She wraps a hand around the wound, trying to stem some of the bleeding. _I’ve faced a lot worse than this,_ she tries to reassure herself. _Remember when Initiate Stanton accidentally broke my leg during sparring practice? Or when Watkins threw that frag grenade just a little too close?_

The firing stops. Boone rounds the corner of the park entrance, rifle in his hands. He ducks behind a tree to avoid fire, then loads his gun. He tries to take aim, but has to duck back behind cover. Veronica takes the opportunity to sprint out. She successfully draws the sniper’s attention. A bullet hits the grass by her feet as she dodges. Off balance, she almost stumbles. It’s enough for a bullet to skim her waist. Veronica’s heart leaps into her throat: this is where she dies. Right here, right now.

A loud _crack_ splits the air. Boone lowers his rifle and runs up to her.

“You okay?” he demands, frantically looking her over.

“Yeah, but we have to get out of here!” ED-E scampers from under a bush and anxiously meows.

“Let’s go. My car.” They both turn at the sound of sirens. They run out of the park and down the street to his car. ED-E jumps into Veronica’s lap just as Boone starts the car. They take off, then Boone slows down and tries to make his car look as indiscreet as possible.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and speed-dials a number.

“It’s Boone.” He states. “We’re coming over. Veronica’s injured.” Then he hangs up and looks over at her. She can see that they’re heading up to North Vegas, presumably to Arcade’s office. “Good job.”

“Not too bad yourself.” Without adrenaline coursing through her veins, Veronica is starting to feel shaky and light-headed. “Let’s just never do that again.”

“We should call Lynn too.” Boone turns his attention back to the road. “She needs to know.”

“I guess,” Veronica pulls out her phone and puts the call on speaker so she can continue holding her arm.

“Hello?” Lynn sounds harried, like she’s in the middle of driving. “What’s up?”

“Uh, so you know how a week ago Vulpes totally tried to kill you?” she winces. What an amazing way to start this conversation. “Well…”

“What happened?” Now that Lynn realizes that this call is about the Legion, her tone shifts to urgent.

“Well, let’s get the bad news out of the way first: there was a sniper and also I’m injured.”

“What?” Lynn yells.

“Good news: Boone killed him and also Arcade picked up his damn phone for once in his life.”

Lynn is silent for a minute.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“No, that’s fine, I’ll just get patched up and see you at home.”

“No.” Lynn sounds upset, her voice hard and angry. “I’ll meet you there. This is my fault, I should at least be there to help.” Then she hangs up.

Veronica stares at the ‘Call ended’ screen.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers to herself. “It never is.”

* * *

Arcade leans back in his chair and yawns. He looks at the clock: it’s just past 5. After having an exciting day full of stitching up bullet wounds, he was glad to dive back into his dull research. Having an angry and possessively protective Lynn, a stoic but uncomfortable Boone, and a reassuring but obviously badly injured Veronica in his small office, he wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet. There was only so much fussing and uncomfortably intimate glances that he could stomach for one day.

He stands up and stretches, his back sore from poring over the most _fascinating_ useless reports.

“I’ve got a letter for you, Arcade.” Julie pokes her head into his small office. She hands him a blank envelope with just his name on the front. He opens it as soon as she closes the door.

_Doctor urgently needed. Patient has unknown condition. Meet immediately at Lewis Street parking garage, bottom level. Come alone._

Arcade is no stranger to these types of letters. He may not be well-known in the seedy underground of Vegas, but there are a few less-than-reputable-but-mostly-harmless groups who occasionally employ him. In particular, the King likes to call him up and try to threaten him into fixing his precious dog. Most of the time though, they just ask for medicine, or to bandage a simple wound. He’s fulfilled shadier requests before. _This is just probably the Kings again,_ Arcade reasons. _After all, they are asking me to go to Fremont Street. I’ll be there and back before Julie even notices I’m gone._

He sneaks out his back door of the clinic and hops in his car. Even with downtown traffic, it only takes him ten minutes to get to the downtown parking garage. He drives down to the bottom level and parks his car.

The entire level is empty and some of the lights are flickering, throwing eerie shadows across the dark walls. _This looks like the setting of a horror movie_. Arcade shivers, deciding to take his pistol from the glove compartment and clip it to his belt.

He exits the car, closes the door, and turns the key in the lock. The sound echoes in the quiet parking garage.

“Arcade Gannon?” a voice breaks the silence. Arcade whirls around and drops his keys. A tall man in Legion Decanus uniform is standing face-to-face with him. Arcade gasps and fumbles for his gun, but the man knocks it out of his hand and grabs his wrist, pushing him until his back hits the car. Arcade yelps and tries to pull away, but the Legion soldier’s grip on his arm is too tight.

 _Shit shit shit._ He’s momentarily frozen in panic.

With his other hand, the Decanus pulls a walkie-talkie from his belt and speaks into it.

“Dead Sea to Alexus. The doctor is making a house call. Over.”

Arcade’s stomach sinks. _He’s got backup. He’s taking me somewhere._ He starts desperately struggling, ineffectually pushing against Dead Sea’s chest with his free hand. Against sturdy Legion armor, he’s no more effective than a stiff breeze. In the moment, he's forgotten how to properly fight.  _How long has it been since I've had to? Not since getting to Vegas, for sure_. 

“Acknowledged, Dead Sea. Incoming. Over and out.”

Dead Sea puts the walkie-talkie away and stares impassively at Arcade, grabbing his other hand.

“Let me go, Legion scum!” Arcade yells, trying to twist his wrists out of the Legionary’s iron grip. His voice cracks, echoing in the empty parking garage. _Maybe I should have told someone where I was going._ The Decanus shifts so that both his wrists are held with one hand, and grabs his chin with the other gloved hand, forcing his jaw shut.

“Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt,” Dead Sea says. _The fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling._ “Are you willing or not, Followers doctor?”

 _I’m such an idiot, such a moron,_ Arcade berates himself, struggling against the Decanus’ rough grip. _No one knows where I am, no one even knows that anything’s happened to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“Your response, doctor?”

Arcade glares up at him. “Go fuck yourself, moecha putida.”

“Your choice,” Dead Sea chuckles. Behind the Legionary, Arcade sees a car pull up and stop. Another much shorter man is in the driver’s seat. The other man, Alexus, exits the car and walks over to them.

Alexus says nothing, only nodding at Dead Sea, who tugs Arcade away from his car and shoves him into his partner’s grasp. Alexus grabs him by the back of his lab coat and wraps a hand over his mouth. Arcade struggles against his grip, but stills when Dead Sea pulls something from his belt. The Legionary pushes a button on the side of it and a long spark arcs between two prongs on the end.

“Last chance to come quietly, doctor.”

The steely look in Arcade’s eyes is the only answer he needs.

Dead Sea stabs him in the stomach with the stun gun. Arcade screams, but the sound is muffled by Alexus’ hand. For a second, his mind stutters in shock. Then, he slams back into awareness. It feels like his body is both numb and burning at the same time, pain shooting up his chest and down his arms and legs. He quickly loses his breath, his loud scream turning into a gasp. Everything seems to go out of focus, and he blinks rapidly to try to reorient himself.

After what feels like hours, Dead Sea pulls back, and Alexus releases him.

Arcade drops heavily to the concrete, just barely catching himself on his hands. He’s gasping for breath with aching lungs. He sits dazed, trying to collect himself. The world is spinning; he reaches up and straightens his glasses with trembling fingers. Dead Sea kneels in front of him and he blearily blinks up at him, eyes wide.

“Still conscious, huh? That’s new,” he says, and stabs him again. This time, Arcade can’t even muster up the energy to scream. Instead, he groans and feels tears prickle the corners of his eyes. His body starts to fall to one side, his eyelids fluttering closed as he loses consciousness. Dead Sea pulls away and Alexus catches him before his head hits the ground.

“Good work,” Alexus approves. “Caesar will be pleased.”

 

 

Arcade wakes up slowly.

First, he feels a solid surface against his back. His legs are folded under him and his hands are laying in his lap. Next, he becomes aware of murmuring voices above him. _Raul? Lynn? No…not a woman. Not Raul…because…_ His mind is hazy and as soon as he grasps a thought, it slips away. It feels like a blanket of smoky calm has been wrapped around his brain, choking out anything else. However, there’s still a patch of anxiety in the back of his mind, reminding him that something is _wrong_ , that he needs to _wake up_ and _run_.

He stirs and the voices stop. He hears a door close. _Where…?_ He slowly cracks his eyes open. With his glasses off, he can barely make out the room he’s in. It’s an office, in a sense. The walls are a warm caramel color. Banners and flags are scattered throughout, but he can’t make out any patterns on them. He half-turns and realizes that he’s sitting on the floor, leaning against a large mahogany desk.

“I think you gave our poor doctor too much, Alexus,” someone says. Arcade turns too quickly toward the voice and feels dizzy. A figure is sitting at the desk and Arcade squints up at them, ignoring the way that colors are swimming in front of his eyes. The person in front of him leans down and gently places his glasses on his face. He slowly blinks once, twice.

An older man, mostly bald, is frowning down at him, brows furrowed. He’s wearing a plain black suit with a bright crimson cape draped over his shoulders. Arcade immediately recognizes him.

 _Caesar_.

Arcade feels a spike of alarm in his chest, but it’s quickly muffled. He tries to move a hand up to his glasses to straighten them, but his arm doesn’t respond. His eyelids droop closed, but he fights to keep them at least partially open. _Something’s wrong with me,_ he slowly realizes, and his brain quickly latches onto that thought. He struggles against foggy lethargy that threatens to drag him back under. _What happened? I was in the parking garage, and then I saw…a Legionary. And then, then… he hit me with something. A stun gun. Right._ Arcade’s head slumps forward. With what seems like a gargantuan effort, he forces his head back up to lean against the desk. _A stun gun wouldn’t do this to me, though. This is something else. I-I’ve…have I been drugged?_

“What,” he slurs. “What’d you do to me?”

Caesar starts to look less concerned and leans back in his chair. “Given your…incredibly violent and hostile response to the sight of my men,” he nods over to the corner of the room, where Alexus is leaning. “We thought it prudent to fully sedate you, for everyone’s safety. Alexus gave you a small dose of this drug called ‘Lorazepam’, but it seems he slightly misjudged the amount. I am normally opposed to the use of pharmaceuticals, but I was willing to make an exception in this case.”

 _Lorazepam, a standard benzodiazepine,_ Arcade recalls, his mind clearing. Complex thoughts seem too much to handle, but he can recall medical information in his sleep _. Can be used in very small doses to treat anxiety, in larger amounts as a light anesthetic. No serious side effects, for the most part. However, I’ll be feeling weak and dizzy for a while. Which is bad, considering the circumstances._

Exhausted, he slumps against the desk and lets his head loll back, staring up at Caesar.

“Why’d you,” Arcade tries to clear his throat and coughs instead. “Why,” he tries again, mumbling incoherently. Caesar seems to get his drift.

“Why did I bring you here? You are a doctor. There is something wrong with my head,” Caesar leans on the arm of his chair. “I need you to find out what it is and fix it. Refuse, try to escape, disobey me? Well, there are other doctors. But all of the other doctors I’ve tried have been idiots. They told me that my migraines are from ‘overworking myself’ or ‘the heat’. But nothing they’ve suggested has helped. I need a real solution. That is why you are here.”

Caesar leans forward threateningly. “That being said, I am aware of your allegiance with the traitorous Courier, but I am willing to ignore it, as long as you do your job right. However, she needs to be assured of your safety. Should she notice your absence, the last thing I want is that maniac blowing my door down to find you.”

He picks up something from his desk and tosses it into Arcade’s lap. It’s his phone. The screen is lit up, indicating a missed call. Or rather, fifteen missed calls, and even more unread texts. What surprises him even more is the time: It’s almost midnight.

“But while she hasn’t called you, someone named Raul seems very desperate to contact you.”

“My roommate,” Arcade explains. _And something…more._

“Good. Call him back and tell him that you are simply working late,” Caesar orders. “Tell him you will be staying overnight at the clinic for the next few days.”

Arcade does as he’s told. As if he had a choice. _With any luck, he’ll have already called Lynn. She’ll know what to do._

* * *

 Raul’s finger hovers over the ‘call’ button. He glances up at Lynn.

“I hope he picks up this time.”

“Me too.” Raul’s phone is plugged into Lynn’s laptop, where she has a tracking program open. Raul pushes the button. The phone rings, and rings, and rings.

It goes to voicemail. Raul slumps in his chair and rubs his red-rimmed eyes.

“It’s been hours,” he mumbles. He’s in his pajamas and barefoot. Lynn is in a similar state of undress, a coat thrown over her nightgown and a silk bonnet over her wiry curls. She had barely gone to bed when Raul had called her in a panic. He’d already called the clinic, but Julie had been confused, saying that Arcade had left early that day. Raul knows that it’s not unusual for Arcade to take up to a half an hour to text him back, but he can’t help being worried. They sit in silence and try not to think of the worst.

The phone rings.

They both jump up and look at the screen, where Arcade’s name is flashing in large letters.

“Hello? Arcade?” Raul is half-leaned over the phone. Lynn stays silent, hunched over the laptop. Now that his phone is active, she can try to track its location.

“Sorry I wasn’t picking up, Raul.” Raul frowns. He sounds exhausted. “I accidentally fell asleep.”

“Where are you?” Raul’s voice cracks in worry. “Are you okay? When you didn’t come home…”

“I’m fine!” Arcade interrupts, still sounding groggy. “I…Julie really needed me to stay late. It’s-there was an emergency, she needed an extra doctor. I’ll be staying at the clinic for the next…while. At least a couple nights.”

“Oh.” Raul shoots an alarmed look at Lynn. “Well that, uh, that sucks.” He decides to play along with Arcade’s obvious lie. “Do you want me to bring you anything? A change of clothes, maybe? Some coffee?”

“No!” Arcade snaps. “I mean, it’s such a- a long walk for you. I’ll just borrow some scrubs or something. Don’t worry about it.” His voice trails off; he sounds half-asleep.

Lynn suddenly stiffens, staring at her laptop screen. She points at the current GPS location of Arcade’s phone. It’s on the southern outskirts of Vegas, almost down in Spring Valley. Nowhere near the clinic, nowhere near their apartment.

‘What?’ Raul mouths at her. She pulls up a large Vegas map on her laptop. Marked with dots are possible locations of Legion safe houses and bases. One is in almost the exact same spot as Arcade’s phone. Raul’s stomach sinks.

“Raul, you still there?” Arcade impatiently asks. Raul can faintly hear another voice in the background. “I-I have to go now. I have a patient that requires a lot of attention.”

“Can I call you again tomorrow?” Raul asks in a small voice. _Please don’t let him be in Legion hands._ _Please let him be okay._

“Uh, maybe? If I can get-If I can find a moment, I’ll call you.”

“Okay. I,” Raul forces his voice to stay light, despite the lump in his throat. “I miss you already.”

“I miss you too. Bye.” Arcade hangs up.

Lynn immediately bursts into tears.

“T-this is all my fault,” she sobs. “First Veronica, then now him! If it wasn’t for me, h-he’s only there with _them_ b-because he’s helping me. What, what if-“

“Hey, don’t talk like that, boss,” Raul puts a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t know that.” He looks at her and fully realizes how young she is. _She’s what, only 23 or so? Too young. Far too young to have to deal with all of this._

“H-he, what if he-what if they, we don’t even know for sure that he’s actually _okay_ ,” She stutters. Raul just rubs her back and lets her cry and worry until she falls asleep in the chair. He shoots a text to Veronica to let her know that Lynn would be staying the night, then picks her up and settles her down on the soft gray couch. He lays a blanket over her and turns off all of the lights on the way to his room.

_It’s okay, he’s okay. Maybe, when I wake up tomorrow, he’ll be back._

Raul wakes up the next morning to a silent apartment.

No clatter of mugs in the kitchen, no early-morning shower or off-key humming. Lynn is curled up on his couch, a blanket tangled around her feet. Raul opens the door of Arcade’s room, half-hoping to see him buried under the covers.

The bed, like the apartment, is empty.

He wanders around the room, trailing his fingers over the spines of the antique medical textbooks on Arcade’s desk. It’s odd, but he’s never really been in Arcade’s room while he’s not there. Picks up a framed photo of a young Arcade next to his ‘aunt’ Daisy, the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. Looks through the clothes hanging in his closet: the neatly pressed jeans and a collection of light collared shirts, perfect for the stifling Vegas weather. Raul finds a t-shirt draped over the laundry hamper. He had gotten it for Arcade for his birthday a few days ago. ‘He’s dead, Jim!’ is printed on the front.

Raul clenches his jaw and quietly starts crying, standing barefoot in Arcade’s half-empty closet.

He remembers the Star Trek movie marathon they’d drunkenly decided to undertake on a rainy Friday night. Arcade had leaned against him on the couch, gesturing angrily at the TV and yelling something about how Dr. McCoy is inaccurately written, how his catchphrase is overdramatic and stupid, how he’s a disgrace to doctors everywhere. He remembers laughing uproariously at Arcade’s rant, then turning and kissing him.

_Now he’s gone, he’s really gone. Gone forever, and never coming back. Just like Rafaela. Just like…_

_No, stop that_ , Raul admonishes himself, hiccupping and drying his eyes on the corner of his pajama shirt. _If-If he’s not coming home, I’m going to have to go in there and drag him back myself. Even if I have to kill every Legionary in that wretched place._ He straightens up and shivers in the cool morning air.

 

Lynn wakes up to the sound of a kettle boiling. She groggily sits up on the couch and stretches her arms above her head. Lynn kicks the blanket from her feet, stands up, and walks into the kitchen. Raul is draped in a gray oversize sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He turns from the stove when she yawns. _Oh, Raul. Oh dear._ He looks like hell, his pale eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Lynn realizes that the sweatshirt is one of Arcade’s old ones, ‘UCLA Medicine’ emblazoned on the front in fading letters.

They sit together at the kitchen table in silence. Raul is cradling a steaming mug of aromatic tea, looking like he wants to drown in it. He also has a small bowl of granola and yogurt in front of him, but hasn’t touched it. Lynn is munching on an apple, a bowl of cereal and blueberries sitting in front of her.

“Count me in.”

“What?” Lynn snaps back to attention. She sets her apple down.

“I know I said before that I wasn’t interested in fighting. That I didn’t think I could do it. And do you know what, to be honest?” Raul fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. “It wasn’t just my age that was holding me back. It’s that…violence has gotten me nowhere in life. Going around shooting anyone that bothered me or my family? Surprise, that got me nothing but trouble. But now…” he trails off.

Raul takes a sip of his tea, burying his whole face in the mug and breathing deeply.

“Now I have something worthy of fighting for. And you best believe that when we mount one of those _loco_ rescue missions you seem so fond of, I’ll be right there at your side. So count me in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: people fall asleep and wake up.
> 
> Next chapter: a plan and a diagnosis.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan and a diagnosis.

The warehouse is nondescript and plain: only someone who knew what they were looking for would be able to find it. Lynn double-checks the address, turns off the car, and pulls her gas mask on.

“You ready?” She asks. In the passenger seat, Raul nods.

“All good to go, boss.”

Lynn is in her full Courier getup, with one notable addition. Raul is an outfit she’s never seen before, an old Vaquero costume with a large sombrero on his head. He has two pistols on his hips. Lynn has her sniper rifle on her back; while she hopefully won’t need it, it helps her cut an imposing silhouette.

There’s a guard at the door. He’s not in full Great Khan armor, but Lynn can see where his distinctive tribal hair is covered by a hat. She keeps her hands loose at her side as she approaches. Unthreatening, but at the ready should the worst happen.

“Hey, what are you doing?” The man yells. “Stop right there, Courier!” He says something into a walkie-talkie on his shoulder. “State your business.”

“I’m here to talk with Papa.”

“Why?” The man eyes her over suspiciously.

Lynn straightens her back and smiles under her mask. “Peace.”

The guard speaks into his walkie-talkie. Then he nods, his eyes nervously darting to her head.

“Go on in, but no funny business, okay?”

Lynn opens the warehouse door and walks in, Raul at her side. The spacious room was divided into various sections, each storing weapons or other material. In the middle was a collection of tables and chairs, all clustered together. At the far end was a table on a raised dais.

The Great Khans fall quiet when they walk in. Some make aborted half-movements towards weapons, but stop themselves. Lynn doesn’t blame them for distrusting her; after all, she’s caused them a fair share of trouble. And in the last few weeks, she’s been slowly and steadily hunting them down. But now, she’s run out of time. Time for Plan B.

Three figures sit at the head table. The one on the left wears no helmet, but is otherwise dressed in standard Khan attire. The one on the right wears civilian clothing, but something about him seems off, like he doesn’t quite belong. The one in the middle is the tallest and carries himself with the most authority.

“Courier.” This one addresses her. “You dare show your face here, after all that you’ve done?”

Lynn bows deeply, hands still clearly visible. “Papa Khan, I come with an offer of peace. The bloodshed you have rained down on this city, the fires and the violence, I’m asking you to stop.”

Papa Khan inclines his head. “Why should we stop now? We are so close to our goal.”

“May I ask what your goal is?” Lynn asks, already knowing the answer. She’d known it for months. Everyone in Vegas knew.

“To join the Legion, of course. The great lord Caesar has promised us a place in his mighty empire if we deal a crippling blow to the NCR.”

Lynn sees Raul tense, but keeps her body relaxed. “And you think this alliance with the Legion is a good idea? Considering their past record with other tribes…”

The man on the left is starting to look nervous, darting glances over at Papa.

“We were concerned about that too, at first,” Papa Khan acknowledges. “But Caesar’s own emissary,” he gestures to the man on the right, “has given us confidence in his good faith. Karl has assured us that our place in the Legion will be as an independent tribe.”

Karl is badly hiding a scowl, glaring up at Lynn. His eyes flicker up to her head then back down to stare at the table.

“If there’s even anything left for you to be a part of when I’m done.” Lynn tilts her chin up with resolve. “You can’t be a part of something that doesn’t even exist. Better to just cut your losses while you still can.”

Papa Khan frowns and leans forward. “The Legion is too powerful to be taken down so easily. We’d prefer to ally ourselves with the winning side.”

Lynn laughs. Raul relaxes, just a bit. “Haven’t you heard the news? Legion’s on its way down.”

Karl jumps up and points a finger at her. “The mighty Legion still stands firm, despite your feeble attempts. A bee stinging the side of a building would be more effective than your pitiful efforts.”

“Ha!” Lynn leans forward and puts both hands on her hips. “Then what do you call this, huh?” She points up to her head, where Vulpes’ Frumentarius hat sits. A snarling wolf, mouth open in a roar, frames her face. “I wouldn’t call this a _feeble attempt_. I’d call it a roaring success. A critical strike to the Legion’s intelligence force.”

Karl snarls. “A minor hit, but one that we can easily-”

“And Cottonwood Cove, of course, boss,” Raul chimes in. “Can’t forget about that _pitiful effort_.”

“Oh, and if we’re just listing off stuff now,” Lynn’s eyes crinkle in a smile. “Techatticup Mine is a pretty good one.”

“What?” Karl’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s not- you haven’t done anything-”

“Well, it’s about-what time is it?”

Raul looks very deliberately at his watch. “Just after ten, boss.”

“Then, actually, I have. I just did.”

Karl looks severely rattled by this piece of news. He slowly sits back down.

Papa Khan seems shocked by this, but regains control of the conversation with the skill only a trusted leader could wield. “You ask me to break my alliance with the Legion, Courier?”

“I do.”

“And why should I do this? You’ve given me no real reasons to do so.”

Lynn swallows and pauses to collect her thoughts.

The man on the left interjects before she has a chance to speak again. “Papa, can I have a word?”

“As you wish, Regis.” They stand a little ways away and put their heads close together, whispering back and forth.

Raul looks over at her: what now?

“So, Karl,” Lynn pulls up a chair in front of the Legionary.

“What you’re doing is unwise, traitor.” He crosses his arms.

“Maybe so, but I don’t really have anything to lose at this point,” Lynn shrugs. “So tell me about what you’re even doing here.”

“Papa Khan already told you, I’m an emissary from Caesar.” Karl looks sicker and sicker every second he looks at her. Lynn is becomingly increasingly pleased with her quick thinking in grabbing Vulpes’ headwear when she killed him. If it can make him so uneasy…

“Yeah, I know that part,” Lynn waves her hand and glances up at Raul, who’s standing behind her chair. “What do you think of them? The Great Khans, I mean. You’ve spent more time with them than I have.”

Karl clears his throat and avoids her bright, too-innocent eyes. “They’re a group of fine warriors, with many proud traditions and a glorious history.” He winces. “They will be a worthy addition to the Legion.”

Lynn nods. Raul puts a hand on her shoulder and steps to the side of her.

“Karl,” he says. The man looks both confused and disgusted by his presence. Ghouls weren’t really accepted by the Legion. “I’ve been wondering…Why don’t you petition the Khans for membership? It would be a pretty strong show of allegiance.”

“J-join?” Karl’s voice cracks. Lynn inwardly grins. “Oh, no, I simply couldn’t. Um…I’m not worthy of such an honor.”

“Not worthy?” Lynn raises an eyebrow. “But surely a warrior in service of the _glorious_ Caesar is the equal of any tribe’s finest? And the Khan fighters are very fine indeed.”

“Of course I am!” Karl recovers himself and quickly looks around the warehouse. “That is to say,” he pastes an obviously fake smile on his face, “Caesar has many fine warriors, and I wouldn’t wish to compare them to the Great Khans.”

“Why?” Lynn can almost see the trap closing around him.

“Is it because you know they’d come up lacking?” Raul, as always, is the perfect counterpoint to her schemes. In the corner of her eye, she sees Papa Khan and Regis walk over to rejoin them.

Karl abruptly stands up and sends his chair clattering to the floor. “Enough!” He slams his hands down on the table. “How dare you compare Caesar’s finest to this tribe of- of _savages_? The mightiest Great Khan is scarcely a match for even the lowliest Legion recruit!” He draws a machete. Lynn stands up with as much grace and calm as she can muster, holding out a hand to stop Raul, whose hands have crept towards his guns. Every person in the room is staring at Karl in horror. “A Legion pup would leave their strongest shitting themselves in terror! I would…”

Karl realizes his mistake just minutes too late. He freezes. The room is so silent, Lynn hears every breath echo.

“You dare-” Papa Khan is almost too furious for words. “Great Khans!” His shout rouses all of the guards. Karl takes a hesitant step backwards. “Drive Caesar’s dog out! If he’s too slow to flee, kill him!”

A flurry of movement follows his order. In moments, Karl lies face down on the floor. The guards return to their positions. Lynn hesitantly steps back to stand in front of Papa, who runs a hand over his face.

“Courier,” he sighs. “What now? We can no longer continue this cursed alliance. But,” he sits back down, “I want to leave a legacy of greatness when I die. Tell me then, where can I find our lost glory?”

Lynn opens her mouth to answer. _By dying with glory,_ she wants to say. _Attack the NCR all you want, as long as you keep civilians out of it. Make one last stand, one final fateful fight. Go out in a blaze of glory. Get your glorious revenge._

But that doesn’t seem right. Setting the Khans loose on the city, fueled by a reckless vengeance? They’ve already caused so much damage already…

She looks over at Raul, standing so stiffly beside her in a decades-old costume, and the answer comes to her. That same morning, wrapped in a too-big sweater at the kitchen table, admitting how his past disposition to meaningless violence had held him back. Making the conscious decision to move on and fight for something precious to him, a real goal.

“You don’t need to look outward, mighty Khan. Your tribe is proud and strong – claim your own glory.”

Lynn holds her breath. Regis looks back and forth between his fearless leader and her.

“Well spoken, Courier.” Papa Khan cracks a smile. “Well-spoken indeed. Perhaps it’s time for us to find our own destiny, one unburdened by the past. Thank you for the opportunity, and for letting us walk away.” He stands up and puts a hand on Regis’ shoulder. “We’ll begin readying ourselves to move. As soon as possible, we’ll depart. Go north, maybe. We will make ourselves strong again, and we shall conquer!”

Regis catches up to her right before she leaves the warehouse. He holds out a plain black notebook.

“This was Karl’s journal. If you’re trying to take down the Legion, maybe it will help you.”

In the car, Lynn rips off Vulpes’ headwear and throws it in the backseat. Her gas mask follows. Raul takes off his jacket and sombrero and cracks open the journal. He reads in silence.

“Lynn, hold on. Listen to this.” Raul sits up straighter in his seat. They’re drawing close to Fremont Street. Raul holds the journal closer to his face and starts to read aloud. “Maximus brought some disturbing news today. He came to ask the Khans if they had a competent doctor. He said it was to help the forces in the area, but he told me something different in private.” Raul clears his gravelly throat and turns the page with shaking hands. “He said that our lord Caesar was ill, struck with mysterious and debilitating pains. He had already tried every available and willing doctor in the city, but was starting to consider kidnapping them, desperate for a solution to his suffering.”

Lynn slams on the brakes and abruptly pulls the car over. The look in her eyes mirrors his own.

“That means…”

“They might not have,” Raul swallows. It’s still so hard to think about, let alone say aloud. “This might not be about you at all. That would explain why he tried to pretend like nothing had happened: if Caesar was trying to keep this on the down low, he wouldn’t want us to know that anything was wrong.”

“And, _and_!” Lynn seems to jump up, a familiar spark returning to her eyes. “He said last night that he had a patient. It might have just been a cover-up, something easy to say to lie, but Arcade _doesn’t_ treat anyone at the clinic. That would be a really weird thing to say, unless...”

“Unless that was actually the truth!” Raul is starting to feel a glimmer of hope in his chest. Lynn pulls back out into traffic, but is heading in a different direction, towards the Eastern side of Vegas.

“I’ve got an idea,” she elaborates, restlessly unclenching and re-clenching her hands around the steering wheel. “Caesar might be looking for medical material. We’re going to pay a visit to the Follower’s main clinic. Maybe they can pull up something for us.”

“Thank goodness,” Raul murmurs, closing Karl’s journal and setting it on his lap. “We know he’s actually okay.”

“As long as he doesn’t start berating Caesar for his lack of Vitamin C or something.”

Raul chuckles. “Then he’s doomed.”

* * *

 

“You would be wise not to try anything reckless, doctor,” one of Caesar’s guards reminds him. He’s dressed in a fancier outfit than the others, so Arcade figures that he’s higher-ranked.

“Don’t worry, I still follow the Hippocratic Oath.” _Right now, I almost wish that I didn’t. As immoral as that sounds._

“Lucky for me, then.” Caesar sits on a medical examination table in the middle of the room. The clock on the wall reads just after 8 o’clock in the morning. Last night, Arcade had quickly dozed off in Caesar’s office, a side effect of the drugs still in his system. He had awoken in the middle of the night laying on the floor in Caesar’s bedroom, a blanket thrown over him. There was a legionary recruit standing in the corner keeping watch. Arcade had turned over and fitfully fell back asleep.

The Fort boasts a fully stocked infirmary. The plain white walls and medical equipment scattered on the counters reassures Arcade. The sight of such a familiar environment helps him deal with the fact that the Legion’s supreme commander is now his patient. He can almost pretend that he’s doing a normal checkup, if only to calm his nerves.

“I’ll start off with some questions.” Arcade finds a pad of paper and a pen on one of the counters and takes it. He pulls up a chair in front of Caesar. The Legionary leans against the wall nearby, watching him with narrowed eyes. “Age?”

“55.”

“Any pre-existing conditions you are aware of?”

“Arthritis in my left hand. A family history of kidney issues, but no problems so far.”

“Hm.” Arcade writes it down anyways. Caesar already looks bored with the questions.

“Any allergies?”

“Bees.”

_Considering the size of the insects we have around here, I’m not surprised._

“Okay, time for your current condition. How would you describe your headaches?”

“Very sudden. They normally start around 9 or 10 o’clock in the morning, and last all day.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the pain?”

“8 or 9. If I take any sort of pharmaceutical ‘cure’, it goes down a little, but it is still very persistent.”

“I see.” Arcade leans back in his chair. “Any other symptoms?”

“My vision has been slightly blurry lately. One idiot doctor thought that that was the cause of the headaches.”

Arcade frowns. “How many other doctors did you consult?”

Caesar thinks for a minute, then turns to his guard. “Lucius, how many? I didn’t bother to keep track.”

“Twelve doctors before this one. None lasted longer than half a day.”

_Great,_ Arcade thinks. _And I’m lucky number thirteen. I almost want to ask what happened to the other ones before me, but it goes without saying that they probably were killed._

“I’ll look over their notes later. But for now, some tests. I’m just going to check your vitals first.” He checks Caesar’s pulse, blood pressure, and breathing. He finds nothing abnormal; he wasn’t really expecting to. If twelve other doctors had tried the same thing, it’s unlikely that he’d find something new. However, he knew that he couldn’t trust anyone’s results but his own. Caesar remains surprisingly compliant throughout his poking and prodding, but now he’s starting to look impatient.

“Well, doctor, what’s your diagnosis?” he demands, crossing his arms.

“What?” Arcade looks at him, flabbergasted. “Ten minutes of examination is not _nearly_ sufficient for me to properly diagnose you with _anything_ another than a severe case of irritability and impatience.”

Caesar’s eyebrows shoot together. “You would do well to show some respect.”

“Well,” Arcade’s voice turns acidic, “that’s not what you brought me here for. You _kidnapped_ me to diagnose you. If you wanted someone to pussyfoot around, you should have gotten someone else. Oh wait, you already did. Twelve other times.”

Both Caesar and Lucius look ready to either interrupt him or hit him, so he quickly finishes. “Just let me actually do my job right. Bene diagnoscitur, bene curatur.” _Well diagnosed, well cured._ Arcade waits with baited breath for their response.

Caesar stares at him, still visibly furious. Then he forces himself to relax, unhappy but seeing reason. “You read Latin, doctor?” He rubs his the side of his head. “Continue.”

“I can read it well enough,” Arcade gingerly approaches Caesar. “Is that where your headaches occur?” He pauses with his hands over Caesar’s head. “May I touch it?”

He nods, so Arcade gently examines the area. No visible signs of anything wrong with his head, and he feels nothing unusual under his fingers. After a few seconds, he steps back and considers the possible causes.

_I have no idea. Besides the headache, I can’t see any other discernable symptoms._ An idea strikes him. _At least, not yet. If none of the other doctors lasted longer than a few hours, they might have easily missed something that didn’t manifest itself right away._ He starts pacing the room and runs a hand through his hair. _If I want to have any chance of getting out of this, I have to either actually cure Caesar, or stay alive long enough for Lynn to mount a daring rescue mission. This is a way to do both._ He takes a deep breath and adjusts his glasses.

“I need to continue to observe you throughout the day in order to make a complete diagnosis.”

“I will allow it.” Caesar stands and straightens his clothing. “I have business to attend to in my office. Come. Lucius, have my medical record brought up. And some breakfast, too.”

Arcade trails him through the dull beige hallways of the Fort, Lucius a tall and imposing presence at his side. It’s a very long and awkwardly silent elevator ride to Caesar’s office.

 

 

Arcade shuffles through the notes left by the other doctors. He’s sitting on the floor of Caesar’s office against his desk. When he’d asked for a chair, Lucius had raised an eyebrow and gestured at the floor. _Maybe it’s a status thing._ _Whatever. At least they didn’t throw a collar on me._

Caesar is above him to his left, speaking with Legion officers who give him reports and ask him questions. From time to time, Arcade glances up at him for any sign of something abnormal.

The first doctor’s notes aren’t very detailed. They seem to have written off the problem as stemming from overwork and lack of sleep. The second recommended an over-the-counter medication. The third recommended a different medication. The fourth and fifth prescribed regular massages and yoga, respectively. The sixth doctor was the first to actually do a medical examination. They found nothing unusual, and chalked up the problem to anxiety and high amounts of stress.

Arcade jots down the vital numbers that they took. They differ little from his own. He yawns, glances up at Caesar, and continues reading.

The seventh prescribed the same exact medication as the second did. _Either they were an idiot, or the poor fool didn’t have time to even read any of this._ The eighth, ninth, and tenth thought that Caesar had sinusitis, heatstroke, or an ear infection, respectively. The notes of the eleventh doctor catch his eye. Unlike the others, who had been general practitioners, this doctor was an ophthalmologist. They had performed a full eye exam, and found that Caesar’s eyesight was declining. They had concluded that his strained eyes were the cause of the headaches.

Arcade frowns and carefully reads the notes. _That doesn’t make sense, though. It says here that his eyesight only went blurry **after** his headaches start. That’s not a cause, that’s a symptom. But a symptom of what? _He sets aside the eye results for further study.

The most recent doctor was a colossal idiot, and had suggested that Caesar stop eating processed cheese and start meditating three times a day.

Arcade sets aside the folder of medical notes and cracks his neck. He half-listens to Caesar speaking to one of his underlings. _He does look unusually tense, but that’s hardly enough to cause that serious of a migraine._

Caesar abruptly stops speaking in the middle of a sentence. Arcade’s head snaps up, his medical instincts telling him that this is more serious than a simple lapse in concentration.

“My Lord?” the Legionary hesitantly tries to regain his leader’s attention. Caesar is sitting completely still, staring into space. Arcade is on his feet in less than a second. He snaps his fingers in front of Caesar’s eyes. No response. Caesar doesn’t even turn his head. Arcade quickly looks at his watch. Almost ten seconds have passed. Lucius has rushed to Caesar’s other side.

“Has this happened before?” Arcade demands.

“I-I don’t think so, maybe?” Lucius seems on the verge of grabbing Caesar’s shoulders and shaking him, but seems to think better of it. “His lord does seem lost in thought sometimes, but I never worried about it.”

Arcade hums in acknowledgement and continues to glance between Caesar’s unfocused eyes and his watch. Fifteen seconds pass, then sixteen, seventeen. After thirty seconds, Caesar seems to snap back to consciousness.

“Are you okay, my lord?” Lucius asks him. Caesar blinks, confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, seemingly exhausted. He looks over to see Arcade hovering over him and grows more confused. “What are you doing? Get back to your work.” His confusion quickly turns to irritation, his apparently default emotion when it came to the poor doctor.

Arcade quickly sits back down and scribbles the details of the event on his notepad. Lucius goes back to stand in the corner, but catches Arcade’s eye and looks worried. Very worried. _And he should be,_ Arcade furiously flips back through the notes, trying to see if any other doctor had witnessed a similar event. _While absence seizures aren’t fatal or even particularly dangerous, it’s very uncommon for adults to experience them._ He puzzles over the problem, writing down hypotheses then furiously scratching them out.

_This doesn’t make any sense._

 

 

Several hours later, Arcade is alternating between staring blankly at his notepad and staring blankly up at Caesar, waiting for something else to happen. _I’m running out of time,_ he realizes.

“Come doctor,” Caesar stands up from his chair. “I am going to observe some training exercises. Follow.” Arcade scrambles to his feet, his legs half-asleep and his back sore.

Arcade had vaguely recognized the building as a modified office building, but nowhere was that more apparent than in the training levels. They pass rows of cubicles where men in Frumentarii outfits discuss amongst each other in hushed voices. In a conference room, a Veteran Legionary is showing a group of recruits a diagram of military strategies. Everywhere they pass, Legionaries stop and bow to Caesar.

One area of cubicles has been cleared, making a large open space. A group of Legionaries are practicing hand-to-hand combat drills in the center of it, a few centurions watching from the side. When Caesar arrives, they stop and salute him, then continue their drills. A very tall Legionary in tarnished gold armor approaches them and respectfully inclines his head.

“Legate Lanius, any updates on our current…situation?” Caesar draws his second in command away from them. They discuss something in quiet voices, too far away for Arcade to properly hear. _Probably about Lynn, since they don’t want me to overhear._ He takes the opportunity to properly observe him from a distance. Caesar looks incredibly short next to the Legate, and frail compared to his sturdy frame.

After a few minutes, Caesar returns, the Legate at his side. “This is the doctor. So far, he’s the least moronic one. He-”

To everyone’s shock, Caesar collapses. Arcade reacts just fast enough to awkwardly catch him and lower him to the ground. He tunes out the panicked shouts around him and rolls Caesar onto his side. He’s unconscious and unmoving, but tense. Arcade’s mind is racing, already in emergency patient-saving overdrive. Now, Caesar is no longer Caesar; he’s just another patient in critical condition in front of him.

Under his hands, Caesar starts to violently convulse. _Another seizure?_ Arcade sits shocked for a nanosecond. _First an absence seizure this morning, then a grand mal?_ Then his medical instincts return with full force. He quickly takes off his lab coat and bundles it under Caesar’s head, then reaches down to undo the buttons of the cloak he wears.

A pair of armor-covered hands grab Caesar’s flailing arms and try to restrain him.

“Stop it, don’t do that!” Arcade yells, swatting the hands away.

The room abruptly becomes deathly silent.

_Oh no._ He forces himself to look up. The imposing mask of the Legate stares back at him. His heart stutters in his chest and he freezes.

Legate Lanius had a _reputation_ , and not a good one. He was only talked about in whispers. Rumor said that he’d survived all matter of attacks, including being poisoned, shot in the heart, and hit with an air strike. The rumors also spoke of his ruthlessness and cruelty, even more extreme than other Legionaries. No one had fought him and lived to tell the tale.

_And I just yelled at him and smacked his hand._

“S-sorry, it’s j-just that if you try to restrain him,” Arcade starts babbling, aware of the entire room’s eyes on him, “he can uh-doing that can c-cause a serious injury.” Caesar’s convulsions start to slow and Arcade takes advantage of the distraction to turn his attention back to him. He glances at his watch; it’s only been a minute. Caesar eventually stills, and Arcade checks his pulse and listens to his breathing. Everything seems alright. He removes his lab coat from under Caesar’s head.

“He needs to be taken to the infirmary for further observation, to make sure he doesn’t have another seizure,” he tells Lucius, putting on the wrinkled white coat. The Praetorian nods and calls over a few Legionary recruits to carry Caesar down to the infirmary.

Arcade starts to stand. Something cold and sharp touches his neck. He stops.

“Doctor.” Legate Lanius looms over him, holding a machete under his chin.

“Legate,” Lucius says, warily keeping his distance. “Caesar needs him alive.”

“For now.” The Legate removes the blade from his neck. “Stand.” Arcade slowly straightens up. Lanius grabs the front of his shirt and backs him into the cleared-out arena space. He is dimly aware of the other Legionaries in the room silently gathering around them.

“Normally I would have you crucified for such disrespect. Maybe I can’t kill you now, but I can…give you something.”

“W-what do you mean?” Arcade stutters, heart sinking. _If I could stop getting manhandled and threatened for a day, that would be great._

“I think you need a…souvenir of what happened today, just to remind you the next time you think about doing something so foolish. Nothing…seriously crippling, of course.” He reaches down and grabs Arcade’s trembling hand, gently turning it over. “I would love to break a few fingers to teach you a lesson. Unfortunately, your hands are off-limits. If anything happened to them, your capacity to perform your job…well, Caesar would probably just have you immediately executed.”

Arcade says nothing, staring up at the Legate with wide eyes. He has to remind himself to breathe properly; standing in front of this terrifying menace, his lungs have seized up. _No wonder even Lynn is scared to take him on. I’ve seen her take down a group of mutants with nothing more than her bare fists, but I’d never seen her actually frightened until she talked about Lanius._

“So, I’ve got a better idea.” Lanius shoves him to the floor and bends in front of him. “After all, you don’t _really_ need to walk properly to do your job.” He grabs Arcade’s left leg and yanks his boot off, then his sock, discarding both on the floor.

Arcade’s eyes widen even further in realization. He instinctively tries to jerk his foot away, but the Legate’s grip is painfully tight around his ankle. He’s leaning back on his elbows, his leg bent up at an uncomfortable angle. _If he breaks my foot or my ankle, I’m not going to be able to bust myself out of here. And I can’t really wait for Lynn; Even if she actually notices I’m in Legion hands, we were nowhere close to being ready to attack the Fort. It could take her a week to get here, or more. If Caesar doesn’t kill me by then, Lanius certainly will._

“Lucius, what do you think: both feet or just the one?”

Lucius, standing to the side, remains stoic. “He has been very brave, and is a very competent doctor. What’s more, he hasn’t even annoyingly begged for mercy yet.”

“Hm, so just the one then. Tell me, doctor,” Lanius’ cold armored hand gently caresses his toes. Arcade squirms and gulps. “You can walk even if your pinky toe is broken, correct?”

Arcade tries to reply, but all that comes out is a squeak. His throat seems to have closed up in fear: Instead of Fight or Flight, he chose Freeze. Lanius is still looking for a response. Arcade hurriedly nods his head; he doesn’t want to antagonize the Legate any more than he already has. _Oh geez, this is going to be bad._

Legate Lanius, without any warning, twists his hand and Arcade’s delicate little toe snaps with a horribly loud _crack_. Arcade wails and clenches his hands in the hem of his lab coat. He stays curled over like that for a second afterwards, eyes shut tight against tears that threaten to fall. Lanius drops his leg and he gasps as it jostles the broken toe.

“Get back to work,” Lanius snarls and walks away.

 

 

Arcade takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. He almost starts to pace around the room, just to work off some steam, but stops himself. His toe hurts enough as it is, no need to put more stress on it. His broken toe is buddy-taped to the one next to it, wrapped in a layer of gauze. Arcade’s barefoot now; putting his shoe back on hurt too much, so he just took them both off. They sit by a counter.

“So you said you had a diagnosis, doctor?” Caesar asks, laying on an examination table. He looks a little worse for wear: very tired, eyes unfocused, too weak to even sit up on his own. Arcade had already run through all of the standard tests, determining that there was no lasting damage from the seizure.

The infirmary is empty, with the exception of Lucius, who hovers by Caesar’s side. Legate Lanius is lurking in a corner, presumably there just to scare the shit out of Arcade.

“Yes, I am almost certain I know what your condition is.” Arcade pushes up his glasses. This, at least, he could feel confident in. “Your sudden onset migraines were only the tip of the iceberg. Eye problems, absence seizures, even a grand mal- these are all symptoms of something much more serious.”

“How serious?” Lucius asks, arms crossed.

“Very.” Arcade sighs. It’s been an unendingly stressful day. “I’m afraid your symptoms are consistent with a brain legion, most likely a tumor. As far as I can tell without any advanced equipment, it’s benign. If it wasn’t, other parts of your body would be showing symptoms, and you’d probably be dead by now.”

The room is silent for a second. Then Caesar rubs his head.

“Can you remove it?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a very simple procedure, as far as _brain surgeries_ go.”

“Doctor…” Lanius rumbles from the corner.

“Fine, yes I can do it,” Arcade quickly adopts a less sarcastic tone. _As if I had a choice in this whole thing. If I can’t do the surgery, it’s game over for me. And I have trained for this. I can do it. I **have** to._

“Excellent. We’ll do it as soon as possible.” Lucius manages to look both pleased and worried at once.

“Which won’t be right now,” Arcade warns, holding up a hand. Caesar frowns. “For one, I don’t have the equipment I need. Your infirmary is fine for small stuff, but it’s not properly stocked for something like this.”

“Give Lucius a list of what you need.” Caesar snaps, already irritated.

“It’s not just that. There’s going to be some complications with the anesthesia. The drug I need, called Propofol, interacts badly with any other type of medication.” Arcade flips back through his notes. “You’ve been taking an over-the-counter pain relief, right?” Caesar nods. “Well, you’re going to have to stop for at least twenty-four hours. Combine that with some prep time and pre-op tests, soonest you could have the operation is the day after tomorrow.”

“Fine. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so we’ll have it Sunday morning.” With a wave of his hand, Caesar dismisses Lanius and Lucius. “Send in someone, preferably a Praetorian. Doctor, you lay down and get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

Arcade instructs the guard to wake him if anything happens, then curls up on an empty examination table, his glasses on a nearby countertop. His shoes and socks are neatly arranged beneath the table, his lab coat thrown over his body like a blanket.

On his second night in the Fort, Arcade falls asleep alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please get that poor man a chair, his back can't take much more of sitting on the floor... 
> 
> Here's some more info about [Grand Mal seizures](http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/grand-mal-seizure/basics/definition/con-20021356), because that sort of stuff is always good to know!
> 
> I promise, things will get better. Eventually. 
> 
> Next chapter: A message and a mistake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message and a mistake.

Alone, the silence of Lynn’s empty apartment sticks in her throat. The lights are off when she comes in, the early morning sun streaming in through the windows. She closes the door and locks all five locks, then finally, at last, allows her shoulders to slump. Her shoes are quickly discarded, her sniper rifle leaned against a wall. Next to it, a small backpack is carefully set down, then opened. Lynn pulls out a thick file folder and drops it on her desk, next to her laptop.

 _I’ll look over that later,_ she collapses on the couch and slumps over, her head resting on the pillow. _But for now, some sleep._

 

“Hey, babe, I’m home.” Veronica gently shakes her awake. Lynn sits up and fumbles to pull her phone out of her hoodie pocket.

“What time is it?”

Veronica chuckles and sits on the couch next to her. “Just after two. How’d it go?”

“Good, good. I haven’t really studied the blueprints yet, but I got them just fine. How’d you do?”

“As well as possible. Got some stuff, got rid of some losers, and blew the whole thing sky-high.” She kicks off her shoes, flinging them somewhere in the apartment. “It’s crazy that the Legion doesn’t use any of that stuff. They had, let’s see,” Veronica relaxes and puts an arm around Lynn’s waist, “I got two sets of combat armor – one for you, one for Boone – and like, _tons_ of ammunition! I stopped by Boone’s place on the way back to drop it all off. Left my power armor there too.”

“Sweet,” Lynn yawns and leans further on her. “You think we’re good to call it, then?” At Veronica’s nod, Lynn taps on her phone, shooting off a quick message to Raul: _It’s a go. Try and tell Arcade somehow?_ She sets her phone aside and slumps heavily on Veronica’s shoulder. “I’d better get up and start solidifying the plan.”

Veronica sighs and pulls Lynn closer. “Lynnnn…” She whines, a smirk half-heartedly gracing her face.

Lynn untangles herself. “I’ll just bring them over here, then.” She quickly retrieves the file folder, snagging a blanket on her way back to the couch. Lynn settles back in next to Veronica, draping the blanket around their shoulders.

For a few minutes, they look over the complex blueprints in silence, then Veronica speaks.

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“What?” Lynn turns to face her. Veronica’s enthusiasm and optimism has faded, leaving her face pale and worried. “Of course it’s going to work. It has to. We’ve thought this out and planned-”

“Only for a couple of days,” Veronica argues. “I mean, look at us! We’re coming up with our actual, concrete plan the day before! We’re outnumbered, outgunned, and we don’t even know-” She bites back the rest of the sentence.

“Know _what_?”

Veronica lowers her eyes. “Nothing. We don’t even know if the plan is going to work.”

“No,” Lynn’s eyes are narrowed in suspicion. “That’s not what you were going to say. Know _what_ , Veronica?” She sets the documents on the coffee table and gently takes Veronica’s hand. “Sorry, I know you’re worried. We all are. But-”

“We don’t even know if he’s still alive!” Veronica blurts, one hand curled into a fist. Lynn says nothing, and that hesitation is all the confirmation Veronica needs. “You’re not sure either! We’re doing all of this, but what if he’s already-already dead, Lynn?” Just saying it aloud hurts, but what hurts more is the tears welling up in Lynn’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” Lynn sniffles, “I don’t _know_ , okay? I’m just hoping. I don’t know _anything_. But we’ve got to try.” She wipes her eyes and straightens her back. “If he’s really-really dead, then we’ll just have to make them pay for it. It’s time Caesar’s Legion left Vegas alone. It’s not _their_ city.”

The sun, high in the sky, warms them. They sit side by side on the couch, in their home, the sounds of Vegas muffled.

“It’s not their city,” Lynn repeats. “It’s ours.”

* * *

Arcade is bored.

This is the happiest he’s ever been to be bored. Boredom now means that nobody’s forcing him to be their personal doctor, or trying to resist his medical recommendations, or bothering him at all. He leans back against Caesar’s desk, ignoring the dull ache in his back. _I’m too old to be hanging out on the ground all day. Would it kill them to give me a cushion or something?_ He conceals a silent yawn behind his hand while Caesar yells at some unfortunate lackey.

Lucius, leaning on the wall behind Caesar’s desk, frowns sympathetically when Caesar rubs his temples and mutters something under his breath about insolent doctors. Arcade’s not sure what was worse this morning: dealing with a caffeine-less and medication-deprived Caesar, or having to tell him that he couldn’t use his normal pain-blocking methods. No coffee and no pills, for fear they would complicate the upcoming surgery.

The surgery. Tomorrow morning. As soon as Arcade thinks about it, he wishes he hadn’t. In less than 24 hours, it’ll all be over, one way or another. And it all depends on whether or not he can successfully complete an impossibly complicated brain surgery that he’s never done before. Hell, he’s never even _seen_ a procedure like this before. He’s not a brain surgeon. _I am now._ He quietly sighs (the first rule of being around Caesar: don’t make any noise. The less he remembers your presence, the better) and rifles through his notes.

Arcade’s so focused that at first, he doesn’t recognize the noise coming from the desk above him. A quiet but steady buzz. His phone. Arcade twists around and tries to peer over the desk to look at the screen, but Caesar takes notice.

“Hm,” Caesar picks up the phone and squints at the screen. “Your roommate is texting you again. Does he have nothing better to do?” Arcade shrugs. “Let’s see what he says: _have a minute to facetime?_ What does that mean?”

Arcade’s stomach sinks with worry ( _he wants to see me? Is something wrong?_ ) while his heart soars with hope ( _do they know?_ ). “He wants to video call me,” he explains. _Caesar will never allow it. But maybe if he thinks it would be suspicious to ignore Raul…_ “We do it every night if I work late.”

“Interesting.” Caesar thinks for a minute. Arcade keeps his face stoic, trying not to let his hope show. “Lucius,” he tosses the Praetorian the phone, “take him down to the infirmary. He gets two minutes, make sure he doesn’t try anything foolish.”

Arcade inwardly grins, but keeps the hint of a scowl on his face, just to keep up appearances. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Caesar rubs his head. “Don’t bother bringing him back up here, Lucius. I’m done with visitors for the day. Throw him somewhere in the basement.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucius takes Arcade’s arm and leads him from the room.

* * *

Raul spends the entire day cleaning his- _their_ apartment. Lynn had told him to rest, but he couldn’t just sit around doing nothing all day. So he takes a page out of his father’s book and cleans. He dusts, sweeps, mops, vacuums the carpet, vacuums the rugs, and attacks the grout in the kitchen with a toothbrush. Anything to keep him occupied, to stop him from endlessly thinking and worrying.

Arcade always hated it when Raul’s long hair got stuck in the drain, so he dismantles the entire drain system and deep-cleans it. Arcade always frowned at the cluttered and disorganized mess of shoes in front of the door, so Raul rigs up a two-tier shoe rack for the entryway. Arcade relentlessly complained about ED-E’s fur getting on the couch, so Raul overturns every piece of furniture in their apartment and vacuums them, too.

Lynn’s text interrupts him in the middle of washing the walls. He reads the text ( _It’s a go. Try and tell Arcade somehow?_ ) and frowns. How is he supposed to contact Arcade? Every text and call would be closely monitored. Raul pulls up his contact information on his phone, finger hovering over the ‘text’ button, then moving to hover uncertainly over ‘call’.

There’s another button: ‘video call’. Raul is hit with an idea. He rushes to his desk and starts pulling out paper and a marker. _This might work._

He sends the text and forces himself to wait for a response. A few minutes later, it comes in the form of an incoming facetime request from Arcade. Raul strategically props his phone on his desk and hits ‘accept’, holding his breath. What if it’s not Arcade that answers? What if Arcade does show up on the screen, but he’s dead?

“Raul?” Arcade appears on the screen, and he’s not dead or horribly mutilated. He does look tired though, his hair drooping and his eyes shining less brightly behind his glasses. Behind him, Raul can see an infirmary that he almost mistakes for Arcade’s office, if not for the little differences.

“Arcade?” Raul’s voice cracks, and he inwardly curses. _Stay calm, pretend like nothing’s wrong._ He swallows hard and adopts a casual tone. “Julie actually gave you a minute to talk?” There’s no one behind Arcade, but that doesn’t mean he’s alone.

Arcade lets out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, but I only got a couple of minutes. Got a patient under observation right now.” He smiles, but his eyes betray him, flickering up and to the side. “What’s up?”

Raul catches the slip of the eyes: someone’s listening to their conversation and watching Arcade for any slip-up. But he has to take a chance on the fact that they can’t properly see his side of the conversation. “ED-E missed you the other day,” he mentions. He silently holds up his first piece of paper: DON’T REACT. After a second, he puts it down.

Arcade, of course, reacts. “What?” He catches himself. “You let that feline monster into our _home_?” He keeps his eyes on the screen.

“He’s a perfectly nice cat.” Raul is grateful for Arcade’s quick thinking. Next paper: ARE YOU OKAY? “Do you just not like him because he gets fur everywhere?”

Arcade sighs. “No. We’ve already talked about this, it’s because he’s _evil_. But I’ll deal with it, I suppose.”

Raul’s heart sinks. _He’s not okay, but he’s dealing with it._ “Well, I vacuumed the whole house today, so you won’t even notice his fur when you come home!” The next paper he holds up with trembling hands: TOMORROW.

“Good.” Arcade nods, then leans closer to his phone. His eyes are brighter at the prospect of a rescue mission, but manages to hide his excitement. “Are you washing the walls too? You’re really going all out.”

EVENING. “Eh, they really needed it. It’s been a while since I’ve done a proper spring cleaning.”

Arcade’s eyes flicker, a hint of worry creeping in, but he visibly steels himself. “I’m looking forward to it. Listen, I’ve got to go, one of the patients just called me,” his eyes dart to the side again. “I’ll be busy tomorrow, so don’t expect me to text back right away.”

Raul quickly holds up one last piece of paper: I LOVE YOU. STAY SAFE. “Okay. Goodbye.” He ends the call without looking at Arcade’s reaction. If it all ends tomorrow, at least he’ll have told the truth.

* * *

Arcade paced the cell Lucius had shoved him in. It was less of an actual cell and more of an old storage room, the shelves stripped bare but left intact. A dirty mattress leans on one wall, a pillow thrown next to it on the grimy tile floor. Arcade runs a hand through his hair and continues pacing, scanning the room. _I’ve got to get out of here, I have to **do something**. Caesar’s procedure is tomorrow morning. Once I’ve done it, I’ll be suddenly very disposable. If they’re coming tomorrow night, I **have** to find a way to delay it, even just by a couple of hours. But how? There’s nothing even here to help me. _

The fluorescent light above him flickers. Arcade stops pacing and looks up at it. _Maybe I can use that for something. The glass…I could use it to break or cut something else. There’s a possibility that I could even get up into the ceiling. It’s worth a shot. If nothing else, I could use the glass as a weapon._

Arcade listens closely at the door. He can faintly hear a guard speaking, but it sounds like he’s down the corridor near the elevator. He flicks the light switch, leaving him in the semi-dark. Arcade tries to reach the light, but he’s more than a foot too short. He climbs up on a counter. Here, he can reach the ceiling, but is several feet away from the light.

The shelving units would let him reach the ceiling, but are too far away from his target. Arcade tries moving one. It’s heavy but not too heavy, and he manages to slide it over to the light with a minimum of noise. He puts a bare foot on the smooth plastic shelf; it holds his weight. The movement jostles his toe and he winces, but continues anyways. He carefully climbs the shelf. _Okay, that was the **easy** part. _The voices in the hallway get louder.

He pushes on the plastic cover of the light fixture, hoping it will simply pop off. It doesn’t, but after wiggling it a little, it slides off sideways. He sets it on the shelf next to him, then grabs one of the fluorescent tubes. He jerks away and winces, wobbling a little on the shelf. _It’s too hot, but I can’t really wait around for it to cool down. If I’m doing this, it has to be **now**._

He braces himself and grabs the center of the tube and twists it towards him, then pulls it down. It doesn’t come out. He takes his left hand off the shelf that he was using to stabilize himself and grabs the light with both hands, wincing. He twists the bulb in the opposite direction.

He hears footsteps on the other side of the door. A key turns in the lock.

The burning hot bulb comes out of the fixture in his bare hands. Arcade startles with a gasp. The bulb slips from his fingers and smashes on the floor. He flinches and loses his balance, his foot slipping on the plastic shelf. He instinctively throws his hands out to break his fall.

What a mistake.

Arcade shrieks. His vision flashes white in pain, and his mind blanks for a few minutes. He’s hauled up by his arm, being dragged somewhere, and everything _hurts_. He just focuses on trying to breathe, trying to force his lungs to stop uselessly spasming. He rapidly blinks to clear his vision. His glasses are askew and he reaches a hand up to straighten them and _ow ow ow_ , that was not a smart idea. Arcade instinctively pulls his hands in to his chest. He can’t feel them besides the occasional spike of pain, he can’t feel _anything_. _I’m going into shock._ Through blurry eyes, the hallway he’s in starts to look familiar, and his breathing picks up even more. _Either I’m seriously in shock, or I’m having the worst panic attack ever. At this point, probably both._

Suddenly, he opens his eyes and Caesar is in front of him.

 “What _happened_?” Caesar snarls. He stomps around his desk and grabs Arcade, who tries to shrink away from Caesar’s blinding wrath. “What did you _do_?” Caesar waves the guard away, who ducks into the hallway and starts yelling for a medic.

Caesar grabs his right wrist and tries to yank it towards him, but Arcade curls in on himself, keeping both hands cradled against his chest. “Show me your hand,” he orders. Arcade shakes his head, tugging his wrist out of Caesar’s grasp and stumbling back a step. His mind is a mess of static and panic. _I need to **calm down.** I’m-I’m not thinking straight._

“No, please,” he chokes out. _He’s going to kill me if he sees what I’ve done. He’s going to kill me, I’m never going to make it out. I just need to make it until tomorrow night, that’s all. That’s all. I have to do whatever I can to make it._ “I-I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, _please_.”

“I. Said.”

Arcade staggers, his left cheek exploding in pain. He can feel something hot running down the side of his face. Caesar had hit him with his right hand, and the edge of his ornamental powerfist must have nicked his skin. His glasses were knocked off, but he can blurrily make out Caesar raising a hand to slap him again.

“Show. Me. Your. Hand.”

Before Caesar can hit him again, Arcade timorously holds out a hand. Caesar roughly grabs it. He stares at it for a minute, growing more and more furious. Arcade is far past the stage of mild hyperventilation; he tries to take a deep breath and fails, his lungs seizing and only taking in half-breaths.

“You do remember,” Caesar says, slowly and deliberately, “that _tomorrow morning,_ you are supposed to be performing a very _delicate_ operation of the _utmost_ importance. With your hands in this condition, you are not fit to do _anything_. Did,” Caesar’s voice rises in fury until he’s nearly shrieking, “did you do this _on purpose_?”

Arcade desperately shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. _Well, technically, I sort of did. However, this was far from the plan I had in mind. Not that I had much of a plan to begin with. Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid._

“All has been prepared, everything is perfect for tomorrow. So you tried to get out of doing it, in the hopes that I’d die before the operation could be done. Did,” Caesar harshly laughs, “did you think that would actually _work_?”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Arcade gasps. He shakily manages a full breath and his lungs burn. “You think t-that I’d do something like this to myself on- _on purpose_?”

“Yes.” The response is immediate. “Extremis malis extrema remedia. _Desperate times call for desperate measures._ And you, doctor, seem like a very desperate man. I think you’re capable of doing _anything._ ” Caesar releases him. Arcade stumbles and nearly falls; suddenly, he’s very dizzy. A slight roaring echoes in his ears, drowning out the erratic flutter of his heartbeat.

“I’ll give you a day to recover,” Caesar grits out. “You’ll do it the day after tomorrow. We can’t wait any longer.” He picks up Arcade’s glasses from the floor, jamming them back on the doctor’s face. Caesar waves over a guard, just in time to catch Arcade has he crumples, unconscious.

_Sometimes desperate measures are all we’ve got._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two whole months since I've updated this fic?? I actually thought that it was just going to remain an unfinished wreck of a wip, but I got a little momentum today and pretty much entirely rewrote the one chapter I had semi-written, so here you go! Update(s) will not happen super fast, but I promise that they will happen!
> 
> Fanfic teaches you a lot, like how not to take out a fluorescent light bulb and how to diagnose a brain tumor. Oh, the fun research...
> 
> Me @Arcade: you weren't actually supposed to be a main character, what are you doing here???? I actually had the last part with him written a LONG time ago...
> 
> Next chapter: maybe the last?????


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after...

Arcade counts ceiling tiles in Caesar’s office, full of restless energy from an entire day spent too-conscious. Upon waking up this morning after collapsing the previous night, Caesar had ordered that he be confined to his office to keep him from causing more trouble. He’s in his usual spot on the floor against the desk. It brings him an odd sense of déjà vu, reminding him of the first time he woke up in this hellhole.

Except this time, his legs are out straight in front of him, his injured foot balanced on the other to raise it. His glasses are on his face, slightly scratched from the fall they took yesterday when Caesar had hit him. Arcade stretches his arms as much as he can to loosen the tension between his shoulders. A pair of thick metal handcuffs is fastened tightly around his wrists, both a security measure and a punishment for his, well, everything.  _ Not sure what they think I’m going to do surrounded by a dozen guards and with my hands in the condition they are. I guess they just don’t want to take any chances at this point. _ He wiggles his fingers and winces. 

He subtly glances at the clock on the wall: it’s just past 6 o’clock in the evening. He counts some more fascinating ceiling tiles, adjusts his feet, and quietly sighs. Then he looks at the clock again. 6:02. He fidgets, twisting his wrists in the heavy cuffs.

He tries to recite old lessons from med school, recalling the muscles of the foot, then the leg, the arm, the back. Even that can’t hold his attention for long, the Latin words burning bitter in his head. He tries anything, any mental games or tricks, to escape the boredom eating at him. With that silent ennui comes a question he doesn’t want to face:  _ What if they don’t come? _

The clock ticks over to 6:20. Caesar wraps up a meeting with a Decanus and rubs his head, eyebrows furrowed. Arcade quickly looks away and stares down at his heavily bandaged hands, feeling the weight of Caesar’s glare on the side of his head. Caesar hadn’t had many visitors today; Legionaries seemed to be avoiding his office. News of their leader’s alarmingly irate mood had spread almost instantly through the Fort.

It’s 6:29. Caesar stands up, startling Arcade out of his bored daze.

“I’m retiring for the day,” he announces. He waves a hand at Arcade, almost like an afterthought. “Throw him somewhere, preferably cold and miserable. Make sure preparations are in place for tomorrow.” 

Lucius nods and nudges Arcade with his foot. “Get up,” he orders. Arcade grumbles, but shakily gets to his feet, leaning an elbow on the desk. He glances up at the clock: 6:30. 

A distant explosion shakes the building, throwing the room off-balance. Arcade nearly loses his balance and has to catch himself on the desk. Another smaller blast rattles the furniture, then gunshots start sounding outside. 

_ They actually came to rescue me,  _ Arcade tries not to let his relief show. He glances over at the door, then at his bound hands.  _ I just need to get to them somehow. Maybe if I-  _

“Come on,” Lucius growls, grabbing Arcade’s arm and roughly pulling him out of the room. He tries to dig his heels in, but Lucius simply tightens his grip and drags him into the hallway. Arcade looks back before the door closes, and sees Caesar barking orders to soldiers, the entire Fort mobilizing in seconds. 

* * *

“Vaquero and Courier are in,” Lynn whispers into her earpiece. She’s crouched, Raul at her heels, just inside a back door leading into a narrow hallway. It’s quiet in here, but she can hear nearby explosions and gunshots. The earpiece crackles. 

“Confirmed. Eye-in-the-Sky and Whack-A-Mole are handling the situation outside,” Boone mutters, and Lynn hears the loud  _ crack  _ of his sniper rifle. 

“We’re just peachy,” Veronica is breathing heavily, “haven’t even taken any damage from these losers yet. It’s amazing what crazy stuff the government comes up with, huh? I should get one of these suits for everyone!” A few  _ crunches  _ of bones under her fists trickles through the earpiece. “Is A-Girl’s-Best-Friend with you?” 

Lynn creeps around the corner, a silenced pistol drawn. “No, I let him go as soon as we got in, but I’m still picking up his signal.” She nods to Raul and nudges open a door. “I’ll contact you when I’ve got his position. Over and out.” 

Raul looks grim as they creep through abandoned hallways, always skirting the edge of bustling corridors. So far, the plan has been perfect: they infiltrate the building with the aid of the blueprints Lynn had obtained, while Boone and Veronica maintain a distraction outside. Lynn can feel Raul’s tension, though. He looks tired, his legs slightly shaking. She wordlessly reaches back and pats his shoulder. He nods and curls his fingers more tightly around his twin pistols. 

“Let’s go get ‘em,” she whispers, and leads the way. They stick to the shadows in a stairwell, going up several flights of stairs. “This floor,” Lynn points at the door. Behind it, footsteps pound and voices shout. Raul takes position on the opposite side of the doorway. This is the point where they can no longer be stealthy: it’s going to be utter chaos once they breach the door. Caesar’s office is only a few doors down the hallway. Raul nods. Lynn nods and reaches for the handle. 

Her phone buzzes, a quick and quiet pulse. She freezes. “Yes,” she whispers, and pulls it from her back pocket. She’d outfitted ED-E with a tracking device that the exceptionally smart cat could activate, and had hooked up the tracker to her phone. He was transmitting something, which meant that he had found his target. 

“Where is he?” Raul urgently asks, almost forgetting to keep his voice down. Lynn quietly swears. 

“Nowhere near us,” she responds. “He’s on the other side of the building, heading down to the basement.” She looks at the door, at their goal. “I was  _ sure  _ he’d be with Caesar, and that we could kill two birds with one stone.” She presses her earpiece. “Good news: A-Girl’s-Best-Friend has found him. He’s on the bottom floor. Bad news: we’ll never make it to him in time. Can you guys handle it?” 

The earpiece crackles. “-think so,” Boone’s voice is tense. “Whack-a-Mole is pinned down, I’m trying to clear a space for her, it might-” It dissolves into static, then cuts out. 

Lynn and Raul stare at each other.  _ Was that ‘I think so’, or ‘I  _ **_don’t_ ** _ think so’?  _ Lynn frowns and rubs her forehead.  _ Fuck, we don’t have time to hesitate. If we want to get Caesar, it’s going to have be right now.  _ “Acknowledged. Try your best,” she says into the earpiece, though she’s not sure if it went through. She nods at the door, then readies a few knives.  _ I’m just going to have faith that Arcade can handle himself for a few more minutes.  _

* * *

“Move faster,” Lucius snaps. 

Arcade stumbles and glares at the Praetorian guard. He drags his feet, though his decreased speed is not just an act; his left foot is throbbing, his broken toe getting jostled and sending spikes of pain up his leg. “This is as fast as I can walk,” he retorts, keenly watching Lucius.  _ I need to get out of these handcuffs and away from him. I wonder if he has the keys.  _

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Lucius pushes him down another hallway. “How did you tell them you were here?” 

Arcade realizes they’re heading for the elevator and he tries to tug his arm out of Lucius’ grasp. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”  _ Fuck, he’s going to lock me up in the basement. Lynn probably thinks I’m with Caesar, or somewhere on the same level. She’ll never find me if he brings me down there.  _ They get to the elevator doors and Arcade starts struggling in earnest, kicking uselessly at Lucius’ armored shins. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something small flash around a corner, and is distracted long enough for Lucius to regain his firm grip.

“Stop that,” Lucius barks, shoving Arcade into the elevator. He turns and hits the button for the basement level. His hand loosens slightly on Arcade’s arm. 

He seizes the opening and shoulders Lucius away, diving for the still-open door. But Lucius is faster, seizing him by the collar and sharply jerking him backwards. Arcade’s head slams against the back wall of the elevator, and he faintly hears the soft  _ ding  _ of the doors closing. His ears ring from the impact, his vision slightly blurring. He barely pauses to diagnose himself with a mild concussion before ducking behind Lucius and trying to hit a button, any button that would give him another chance to get out of the elevator. 

“Nice try.” Lucius tries to grab him, but Arcade elbows him in the throat.  _ Now would be a great time to not be wearing handcuffs. They let me roam free the last two days, but it’s only today that they realize I might cause problems.  _ He hits the button for the next floor with the back of his hand. Lucius coughs and rubs his throat, then lunges for him and grabs his arms. Arcade headbutts him, stars flashing behind his own eyes.  _ Ah yes, the best way to cure a concussion: hit your head again.  _ Arcade grabs Lucius’ machete from his belt with both hands, wincing at the stinging pain in his fingers, then stabs Lucius in the throat, driving the blade in as deep as he can. 

Lucius chokes, blood flowing from his throat and half-open mouth. Then he falls dead at Arcade’s feet. Arcade quickly kneels and rifles through his pockets, successfully finding a set of keys. He tries a few on his handcuffs before finding the right one, his stiff fingers slipping on the metal. Finally, the handcuffs fall off. 

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Arcade darts towards them, then flinches as gold fills his vision. Legate Lanius blocks the doorway. 

“Not so fast,” he rumbles. Arcade tries to duck around him, but Lanius grabs his wrist and pushes him back into the elevator.  _ Dammit! I had almost made it.  _ Arcade curses under his breath and watches the doors close and the elevator start downwards again.  _ I might still be able to outrun Lanius if I can just get away from him. All that armor would slow him down. But with my toe broken, it’ll be rough. But I think I could make it.  _ He keeps an eye on Lanius, his attention focused on their descent. Lanius tightens his grip on Arcade’s wrist in warning, as if he could read his thoughts. 

The basement is dark and quiet, the sounds of gunfire muffled by the ceiling. Lanius more or less drags Arcade down the hallway. 

“Not sure why we still need you alive,” Lanius growls. “Should just shoot you and be done with it.” He yanks Arcade too roughly, and he stumbles and slides to his knees. “Get up.” Arcade shakes his head and bites down the nausea that accompanies the movement. Lanius shakes his arm. “Get. Up.” 

“No. Give me a second to rest,” Arcade replies.  _ I’ve got to buy myself some time. They’re probably somewhere in the building looking for me. _ He takes a deep breath. 

“You can rest when you’re dead,” Lanius draws a knife the length of his arm. “Which will be very soon, if you don’t get to your feet. Right. Now.” The fluorescent lighting glints off the blade. Arcade sighs and pulls himself up using the wall for support. “Now get going.” Lanius pushes him forward. He marches Arcade down the hallway past several doors, stopping at a heavy steel door. “Stop here. You-” 

A door opens at the far end of the hall. Lanius stops and turns. 

“Identify yourself.” He orders. The hall is empty. Lanius starts walking towards the door. “No use hiding.” His grip on Arcade’s arm starts to weaken, his attention diverted, but Arcade waits and bides his time. Lanius is not distracted enough. Not yet. A soft scratch on the floor, and Lanius pauses, knife still in hand. 

Then a very familiar gray cat launches itself at Lanius’ back, sinking his claws into the junction between armor pieces. Arcade, shocked at the sudden appearance of ED-E, of all people, shakes himself into action. Lanius having let go of him in his surprise, he grabs Lanius’ hand and sharply bends back his middle finger, breaking it with a loud  _ snap  _ just as his own hands burn. ED-E avoids Lanius’ furious swats, climbing his shoulder and biting his exposed shoulder blade with a piercing yowl. Lanius drops the knife. Arcade grabs it and drives it into Lanius’ arm. 

The Legate roars and stomps his heavy boot on Arcade’s injured foot. The dull pain that he’d pushed through thus far flares, and he screams loud enough to momentarily deafen himself, the echoes ringing in his ears. His vision flashes white, lightning bolts of agony wailing in his head. Lanius grinds his heel down and he shrieks again, falling to his knees and curling up around his foot. Satisfied with his work, Lanius turns to ED-E and swipes him. The cat nimbly dodges and snarls. 

Arcade tries to get to his feet, to do  _ anything,  _ but he’s shaking so badly, his foot throbbing.  _ I might have a few more broken toes to deal with later. If there is a later.  _ Then- 

The door at the end of the hall crashes open. 

* * *

Veronica, running recklessly down the stairs, is starting to tire. Her enthusiasm at being able to punch whatever she wanted without consequences is starting to wear off, the stress of the fight making her feel slightly dizzy. Boone quietly follows her down the stairs. Their strategy had worked splendidly: she had drawn the enemy's’ fire while Boone had sniped from an advantageous position. 

It was unfortunate that they were only getting limited contact with Lynn and Raul: their earpieces were still overwhelmed by static whenever they tried to use them. Veronica wasn’t even sure if Lynn knew that they were in the building trying to find Arcade. 

Speaking of their doctor-in-distress, a piercing scream echoes up the stairwell. Veronica breaks into a sprint, the servos of her high-tech suit whirring. She throws open the door just as Arcade screams again, just in time to see him crumple to the floor, Legate Lanius standing over him. 

“Hey!” Veronica shouts, pushing back the instinctual fear at the sight of the mighty Legate.  _ Lynn said he was more dangerous than Caesar, even worse than Vulpes was. Guess she was wrong about him being up with Caesar.  _ Lanius and Arcade turn at her shout, the latter’s eyes lighting up with hope. Lanius dodges her first punch, but ED-E, still on his back, throws him off-balance and her second hit lands. She takes advantage of the knife in his arm, striking him on that side. 

Down the hallway, Boone softly whistles, signalling that he is in position. Veronica darts to the left and ducks, a shot hitting Lanius in the shoulder. ED-E jumps off and protectively curls next to Arcade. Veronica dodges right. Boone shoots left. 

Lanius yells and kicks her hard in the stomach, his boot heavy enough to stun her for a second. Boone quietly curses as he has to reload. Veronica coughs and recovers, dodging to the side, then punching him again and again until her arm gets sore. Still, he stands.  _ What will it take to bring him down? I need to give Boone a chance to get a headshot. If that doesn’t work, nothing will.  _ She slows her breathing and becomes laser-focused, tuning out everything but the Legate. She doesn’t think about Lynn and Raul battling somewhere all by themselves, she doesn’t think about Boone crouching unprotected behind her, she doesn’t think about Arcade or ED-E, she doesn’t think about the Legate’s terrifying reputation. 

She sees a brief opening in his defenses and strikes hard and fast, jamming her sharp elbow into his throat, then pulling away and punching the same spot. Boone whistles again. Lanius coughs, stunned long enough for Veronica to dodge to the side and duck. 

Legate Lanius’ head explodes in a shower of blood and shrapnel from his helmet. Veronica takes the brunt of the gore, shielding Arcade, who is curled up behind her. After the shot rings out, the hallway falls eerily silent. 

“Are you okay?” Boone kneels next to Arcade and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll be fine,” Arcade shakily replies. Veronica very pointedly doesn’t look down at his foot, choosing instead to worry about his bandaged hands.  _ Fuck, he looks terrible. He’s still alive, though, and that’s what counts.  _ Her earpiece crackles. ED-E loudly meows.

“-if you hear this,” Lynn’s voice comes through, sounding harried. Gunfire is in the background. 

“Lynn!” Veronica excitedly says, completely forgetting codenames. “Yes, we hear you now!”

“Good,” Raul pipes in, his breathing labored. “We killed Caesar and we’ll be done with the guards in a few minutes. I’m injured and Lynn- I mean the Courier- might have a dislocated shoulder. Where are you guys?” 

Boone helps Arcade to his feet, keeping an arm around his shoulders. “Just got Arcade. Killed Legate Lanius. ED-E’s with us. On our way to the rendezvous point.” 

Lynn and Raul both sigh in relief. Veronica thinks she hears Raul quietly sniffling, but she’s not sure. “Thank goodness,” Lynn says. “Is he alright?” 

“He’s a little torn up, but he’ll pull through,” Veronica replies. “Give us a couple of extra minutes, though. He can’t really walk.” 

“We’ll meet you there!” Lynn says, then cuts off communication. 

Arcade tries putting weight on his left foot and whines, leaning heavily on Boone. Veronica frowns.  _ We’ll take too long getting to the rendezvous point at this rate. He’s not going to make it more than a few steps.  _ She stomps over to them and kneels. 

“Get on my back,” she suggests. “I can carry you and punch at the same time.” Arcade climbs on her back, slinging his arms around her neck and hooking his knees on the joints of her hip armor. She makes sure he’s secure before standing and jogging down the hallway, Boone at her heels, ED-E on his shoulder. 

* * *

The rendezvous point is a back exit of the building on the ground floor. Lynn and Raul only wait a few minutes before the door opens. Boone leads the way and holds the door for Veronica, who is still carrying Arcade. Lynn doesn’t look at him, afraid of what she will see. Instead, she turns and leads the way to the car that they’d stashed in a nearby alley. Distant sirens start to wail as they get into the car. Boone drives, Lynn slumps in the passenger seat nursing her dislocated shoulder, and Raul helps Arcade into the middle seat, Veronica settling in on Arcade’s right side. ED-E jumps up into her lap, still sniffing suspiciously in Arcade’s direction, but no longer as hostile as he used to be. 

“Everyone ready?” Lynn asks, pulling a small remote from her pocket and letting her finger hover over the button as Boone pulls onto the road. 

“Ready for what?” Arcade croaks, pushing up his cracked glasses. Raul is curled around him, his face pressed into Arcade’s shoulder, his long hair obscuring his face. Raul’s arm is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, the result of a stray bullet. 

Lynn grins and presses the button. “Just wait and see.” 

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the Fort building behind them explodes in a rush of heat and light. 

“Holy shit!” Arcade laughs. 

Veronica reaches up and holds Lynn’s hand. “Perfect, babe.” Lynn leans back and kisses her, both of them tasting like smoke and blood. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts, too exhausted to properly celebrate. Arcade is drowsily leaning on Raul’s shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and his lips quirked up into a faint smile. By the time they pull into the clinic’s parking lot, he’s fast asleep, surrounded by friends.

* * *

“Raul…” Arcade whines, leaning over the back of the couch and making grabby hands. “My phone…” 

“Why’d you leave your phone over here if you knew you would want it?” Raul gripes, despite the grin on his face. He walks over and holds Arcade’s phone just out of reach. 

“Hey!” Arcade stretches his arms out, but Raul just holds the phone higher. “Don’t make me take ten minutes to get up so I can hit you with my crutches.” Raul just laughs and lets Arcade’s fingers brush the phone before pulling it away. “Raul!” Despite his irritation, Arcade is smiling too. 

“What will you give me in exchange?” Raul teasingly asks. Arcade sighs. 

“My unending love and devotion. Is that sufficient, or should I add a week’s worth of cleaning the bathroom once I can walk again?” 

Raul bends down and hands him the phone. “The first will suffice.” He kisses him just as the door to their apartment opens. 

“Ew!” Lynn jokingly says. “Nobody’s allowed to be cuter than us!” Raul laughs as she dramatically dips Veronica into the most outrageously romantic embrace. 

“Lynn, the pizza!” Veronica protests, balancing a stack of pizza boxes in her hands. Boone, entering behind the couple, deftly rescues the food before Veronica drops it. He sets it on the counter and pauses to let ED-E jump off his shoulders and slink away into the apartment. 

The week after Lynn’s “loco” rescue mission (as Raul would say), things have quieted down. Julie let Arcade have the whole month off of work to rest and recover. His foot will take a long time to heal, but his hands should be perfectly operational by the time he has to do any delicate operations. For now, he resigns himself to taking advantage of Raul’s willingness to fetch him random items out of his reach. 

For his part, Raul is secretly putting together a remote-control drone that can pick up even heavy objects, just so Arcade won’t ask him for a glass of water every five minutes. In the meantime, he starts charging Arcade in the most valuable of currencies: kisses. 

Lynn’s stomach still churns with guilt when she thinks about Arcade, but she gets over her angst long enough to keep him company in her free time. She’s still busy chasing down the vestiges of Caesar’s Legion and driving them out of the city. 

Veronica helps Lynn when she has a chance. In addition, her participation in the battle earns her a raise from the Brotherhood CEOs and a cushy position as a director of intelligence. Her first order: stop automatically dismissing every gang just because they “lack technological prowess”. 

Boone lives quietly and happily in his apartment, visiting his friends often, and making new friends who he can trust and open up to. 

ED-E is actually a robot, a fact that Arcade reveals to everyone’s shock. He immediately clams up when Lynn asks him how he knew, but that’s a mystery she can delve into for later. Now, though, she’s just trying to teach ED-E that just because she let him open doors during their rescue mission, doesn’t mean he should use that ability to prank all of the neighbors on their floor. Lily, her sweet old neighbor, doesn’t seem to mind though, simply inviting ED-E in with the promise of a comfortable cushion with a window view. 

Robert House, mysterious owner of Vegas and enigmatic person who likes to telephone unsuspecting people in the middle of the night, dies without fanfare. 

The NCR quickly finds the high-ranking Legion Frumentarius in their midst. Captain Curtis no longer has an organization to flee back to, and dies by firing squad. Tabitha and Rhonda are never seen again in Vegas, though Lynn does get a copy of brand-new best-selling children’s book  The Adventures of Tabitha and Rhonda  in the mail. The Great Khans peacefully travel north, never to bother Vegas again. 

The bright city of Vegas enjoys many years of peace under the protection of the mighty and mysterious Courier. The people can always count on her to swoop in and take care of any marauding invading force, their hearts soaring when they see the familiar brown uniform. 

Vegas gains a superhero to worship, and Lynn gains a purpose. And everyone gets a happy ending. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I actually finished this??? I thought that it would be set aside, never to again see the light of day. But I felt really bad about leaving Arcade in such a bad spot, and felt responsible for giving him a happy ending. 
> 
> I did just throw a bunch of random plot points in there at the end, but *shrugs* oh well. Never got the chance to have the big reveal that ED-E is actually a robot without spending like 3 pages on it. So I think that one day, Arcade just says it out of nowhere. 
> 
> I know I didn't really talk about Caesar's death, but he's a super old and fragile dude with a brain tumor. Is he really that hard to take down??? Also, I almost accidentally wrote one of Lanius' lines as the same as Frank Horrigan's from Fallout 2, which made me realize how similar they seem???
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed this! I might rewrite the first parts, since I felt like I have really grown as a writer since I started. My style is quite a bit different, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a [moodboard.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/post/163367502739/she-packed-no-star-as-she-wandered-far-where-the)


End file.
